Mary Marry Quite Contrary
by Emily The Riveter
Summary: A year after three of her sisters are married, Mary is sent to London to assist her aunt as Elizabeth and Jane used to. Her first time in London, she is hesitant to attend assemblies and balls, much preferring the company of her small cousins or the nearest piano. Will she find more company to enjoy? Hint: yes she will. Read as Mary grows into a fine young woman in London Town.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Miss. Mary Bennet was, by her own admission, ill fit for socializing. Carrying a conversation with new acquaintances was a struggle in itself, and making friends, such a formidable task that it is for all, was made ten times more difficult due to Mary's lack of social tact.

It is for these reasons that Mr. Bennet was so hesitant in sending one of his two remaining daughters to London. As both Elizabeth and and Jane were no longer in a position to assist the Gardiners with their children, each beginning families of their own, his brother in law had requested the the help of the next eldest of his daughters. He reread the request several times over the course of two days before forming a response.

 _Mr. Gardiner_ , he begins.

 _I must begin this missive by expressing my deepest gratitudes for extending such an invitation to Mary. I know that Jane and my dear Elizabeth were favorites among yourself as well as your children.  
In regards to Mary's visiting you, I feel compelled to reveal some concerns. Mary, while sincere in all of her endeavors, is lacking some of the finesse that need be applied by ladies in polite conversation. Part of me believes that a season in London would do her well, hopefully forcing her to adapt to polite society's expectations. Another part, however, fears she may become a hindrance more than a help. _

_I leave whether or not she visits up to you. If you retract your offer, please know that there will be no hard feelings; Mary lacks several of her older sisters positive characteristics. Luckily, she is also without those negative traits of her younger sisters. If you continue to seek Mary's presence in London, I will send her forthwith._ He looked through his open office door to where Mary sat, fingers flitting across the keys of the piano, producing a dull melody.

 _I believe that, while Mary was never close to any of her sisters, she is feeling their absence greatly. Her mother is now greatly focused on Kitty. Having seen how your wife has influenced my two eldest daughters, I have no doubt that Mary will do just as well in her care._

 _I shall finish this missive so as not to devour anymore of your time, only adding: God bless you and your family._

 _Etc. etc._

 _Octavius Bennet_

Mr. Bennet reread the letter once before retrieving a green stick of wax from his drawer to seal the letter. "Mary," he called. The playing came to an abrupt stop in the middle of a crescendoing stretch of the piece. She made her way into his office so neither would need shout. "See if you can drag Kitty away from your mother for an hour and walk to Meryton with her. She wants to look at more ribbons for her bonnets and I have a letter that needs to be sent to your Aunt and Uncle in London."

"Yes, Papa, of course." She put her hand out for the letter.

He pressed a few coins into her hands, "for anything you or Kitty purchase in town," before handing over the letter. Mary tucked the money and letter into her pocket before hurrying off to find Kitty. After dragging Kitty away from Mrs. Bennet, Mary explained their reasons for trudging into town, although the word 'ribbons' alone would have been enough to entice Miss. Kitty Bennet to go almost anywhere. Kitty's idle ramblings of ribbon color, width, and design were acknowledge by Mary with hums of agreement, although she paid no mind to what was said.

Mary simply wished to keep her sister content and, in doing so, to avoid one of her sister's dramatic fits of jealous at their sisters' new stations. Indeed, ribbons were a much more lax topic and easier for Mary to disregard.

 **This is just a prologue to see if anyone is interested in another take on what happens to Mary after the novel. I'm completely open to title suggestions. Please leave a review telling me if you're interested in more chapters.**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A week and some days later, after the Gardiners reaffirmed their offer, Mary was being handed into a carriage, her single trunk sitting on the bench across from her. Outside of the carriage, Kitty had taken to whining in a very Lydia-esque manner about the unfairness of it all. "Mary won't respect the fashions like I would, Papa!" or "Mary isn't even likely to enjoy it in Town, Papa, I must go in her steed to save her the agony!" were often repeated arguments. Mary figured if saving her had actually been Kitty's goal, it would have been quite sweet. Alas, she knew better.

Mary settled into the cushioned bench of the carriage, her rigid posture relaxing slightly. She was surprised by her Aunt and Uncle's invitation to spend the season with them. Truly, she supposed she should have expected it. Jane and Lizzy were so oft sent to them to help with the children and keep their aunt company when she ventured out into society. Mary could only hope that she wouldn't disappoint the Gardiners.

Hours later, Mary was jarred awake my the abrupt stop of the carriage. She hadn't even realized she had fallen asleep. She blinked away her sleep affected eyes and glanced around. The book she had been reading had somehow found its way to the floor. The pages were bent and her place in the was surely lost. She picked the book up and closed it, holding it steady at her chest. The carriage door opened and as soon as the footman handed her down, she found herself in a warm embrace, her arms trapped between their bodies.

When she was finally released from the embrace she was able to identify the perpetrator as the very Aunt she was visiting. Clearly she had reached her destination.

"Mary, dear, welcome!" Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed, wrapping one arm around Mary and leading her inside. "Our house clearly isn't in the smartest of areas, but we like it well enough and our neighbors are good people."

"I assure you, Aunt, I am not concerned with smart the address is," Mary told her Aunt as she was ushered to a seat in the parlor.

"Oh, I'm sure you don't dear," Mrs. Gardiner said before scuttling out of the room to call for tea. She returned with a maid on her heals. "Have some tea and biscuits, dear, I'm sure you're hungry after being in the carriage all day," as she said this, the maid poured tea and doled out the biscuits, allowing the women to add whatever sugar, milk, or lemon they pleased.

Mary let the cup warm her hands as she looked around her. She took a slow sip before she responded, "Thank you very much. Be sure, however, that I do not intend to overindulge regularly while I'm here." She took another sip. "I fully intend to help you in whatever way I can. After all, the bible declares that helping others is a virtue that should be cultivated in all."

Mrs. Gardiner laughed and placed her hand on Mary's wrist. "Dear, you are right when you say helping others is a virtue; however, I plan on relying for you the same way I relied upon your sisters. While it truly is helpful to have an extra pair of eyes on the children at times, your first and foremost purpose is to provide me with some company."

Mary couldn't help butch arch an eyebrow in confusion. "I thought I was sent for as a helping hand in raising the children."

Her aunt's smile stretched even wider. "I will tell you what I told your sisters: I am not lying when I say I want your help with the children and I do. It just so happens that is not my main want. There comes a time in a woman's life where she simply wants to parade about the young women of their relations." Mary opened her mouth to protest, but Mrs. Gardiner continued. "I find just have another woman on my arm at balls helps me maintain my sanity through the night. Whether the polite conversation of Jane, the witty conversation of Lizzy, or whatever conversation you will provide. My daughters are not yet old enough to accompany me. Alas, if I am to maintain friendly connections in polite society, I must attend."

Mary was silent. While her aunt spoke, she finished the cup of tea but left the biscuit untouched. "Surely," she began, picking her words carefully, "Kitty would be much more entertaining company for you." Mary wore an impassive mask but her heart was dropping. No one had ever acclaimed her as good conversation. Surely, Kitty would be more preferred company. She was not quite surprised, just disappointed. Still, her aunt smiled.

"I'm sure that Kitty will be lovely company," Mrs. Gardiner said, "in a couple years time. Before she can become truly good company, she must learn to pay attention to those around her. However, I think you, being as quiet as you are, may be able to sketch observations that, while not optimistic like Jane's or humorous like Lizzy's, will be strikingly accurate. And that, my dear, I look forward to hearing." She patted the table twice and stood from the table. "Yes, I am sure we will have good fun together Mary, dear, but that fun should not begin until we are well rested. Let me show you to the room you will be staying in."

Mary let her aunt guide her up a set of stairs to a guest chamber where her trunk had been left. The maid that had served her aunt and her tea was to double as her lady maid during her stay. The maid had unpacked her things and had put her nightgown on a grate that sat close to the fire.

"I 'fought it might be nice to go to bed wif a warm night dress," she said as she grabbed the night gown from the grate.

Mary nodded and allowed the maid to begin undressing her. "That is very thoughtful of you. Miss. Smith, you said your name was?" She nodded in the affirmative and pulled the warm chemise over Mary's shoulders. "Well thank you Miss. Smith. I do not think I will need anything else tonight."

Miss. Smith stood for a moment before understanding that she was no longer needed. A quick curtsy, a smile, and she scurried out of the room.

It wasn't until then that Mary realized how tired she truly was. Whatever sleep she had in the carriage was clearly not restful. Although the fire itself was creating a delightful warmth within the room, Mary was thankful for the warm nightgown that covered her knees as she kneeled to say her prayers. She said them quickly before diving into the bed and letting sleep wash over like a wave over sand.

 **I never realized how difficult it was to write such a stern character. Opinions encouraged! It warms my cold, academia-crushed heart to read reviews.**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next morning saw Mary waking up at 8 in the morning as was usual. Not wanting to call for anyone, Mary chose instead to slip a brown day dress over her chemise that could be fastened with a simple drawstring. While she hadn't any talent in pinning up hair, Mary found that her preference for simplicity enabled her to pin her hair in her usual style, albeit slowly.

When she'd finished preparing herself for the day, she stepped into the hallway intending to make her way downstairs. It was only then that she realized how very disorienting it was to wake up in a new place for the first time. She tried to remember which way she had come from the previous day to no avail. After making the decision to take a left and finding herself at a dead end, Mary turned to the only remaining path to take in the opposite direction.

The stairs at the end of the hall took her to the front entrance of the house and from there she was able to follow the sound of silverware scrapings into the room where breakfast was being served. At the table sat her Uncle Gardiner, who she'd not seen upon her arrival the previous night. "Good morning, Uncle," she addressed him as she made up a breakfast plate for herself.

The slightly portly and clearly sleepy man smiled as Mary took the seat across from him. "Good morning Mary. I hope you slept well. Coffee?" he raised the pot in emphasis of the offer.

"No," she said stiffly, "thank you. I've never had it before, and I would hate to have it only to dislike it. It would be quite wasteful."

Mr. Gardiner rubbed his chin in over exaggerated thought before sliding his coffee towards Mary. "Have a sip of mine. Theres a little bit of sugar and milk in it. If you like it, we can make you a cup. If you don't like it, then I will just continue drinking my own cup and none shall be wasted." His twinkled with pride as if he had stumbled upon the solution to one of the worlds most contemplated philosophical queries.

Mary picked up the cup but did not drink. "It has an altogether pleasing scent." She brought the cup up to her face but still did not drink. She pursed her lips and Mr. Gardiner was sure she was trying to think of something else to comment on that she may delay trying the new drink a bit longer.

"If you not drink, Mary, it will surely cool and then it will indeed be wasted." This seemed to jar her to her senses. She brought the cup to her lips and tipped it. Her face contorted in a rather humorous manner; a manner that had never graced Mary's countenance before. It was like watching a child try something sour for the first time.

Mary schooled her features back into a mask of indifference before taking another sip. Her eyebrows knit together and she stared at the cup. "No good?" Mr. Gardiner asked, curious to the girl's musings.

"I cannot decide," she paused, turning her gaze to the cup, "whether or not I enjoy it. It is a bit bitter, but not totally unpleasant." She returned the cup to her uncle. Mr. Gardiner suggested adding more tea or milk to cut the bitterness and poured her a cup, adding a smidgen more sugar than what he had put in his own before finishing his own cup and giving his excuses. "I am off to work, you see, for I am not a man who can remain idle with his business and allow other's to make my fortune for me; no, if I am to live on a sum not inherited, I must make said sum myself. Tis only fair."

With perfect timing, Mrs. Gardiner materialized in the room and bid her husband farewell for the day before sliding into the seat Mr. Gardiner had occupied just a few moments prior. "Well Mary, dear," Mrs. Gardiner began setting food on her plate as she spoke, "I've a full day planned for us. Mary was sipping the coffee, coming around to the taste, and listening to her aunt politely. "Now, I am aware of your astute aversion to dress shopping compared to most girls your age. We are going to get new dresses, each of us, but nothing horribly extravagant. "

"I am certain that is unnecessary, Aunt."

"Oh no, my dear," Mrs. Gardiner reached across the table to pat her niece's arm. "Society says otherwise. Fret not, dear, we will not get many new dresses and nothing that attracts attention, I promise you."

Mary was resigned to her fate and knew it would be impolite to oppose her aunt any longer, so when both the women had finished breaking their fast and the boys seen off to school and the girls being attended by their governess, Mrs. Gardiner and Mary walked into town.

Mary was in awe at the busy streets of London, although one wouldn't guess as such from her impassive profile. Mrs. Gardiner led her from shop to shop where they chose fabrics and designs and were fitted. Mrs. Gardiner stayed true to her word, much to Mary's relief, and only purchased a few simple gowns. Mary was glad to avoid the overtly ostentatious colors that were quickly becoming fashionable, although her aunt refused dark fabrics like brown.

When everything had been paid for and Mrs. Gardiner had given directions for where the purchases were to be delivered, Mrs. Gardiner steered Mary towards another shop. "I thought we were finished with our shopping," Mary said, tired from the mere action of saying 'yes that's fine' to her aunt and shop keepers. Truly, she wished to retreat back to the house for tea. When her aunt said nothing but instead pushed Mary into the shop.

Whatever protest Mary intended died on her lips. Shelves filled with books stretched to the ceiling of the building. She thought briefly of how Lizzy would love the place, but surely as a Darcy her library was larger than the small bookshop. "I figured you may wish a few novels to pass your time when we aren't engaged," Mrs. Gardiner said. She pointed towards a specific shelf, "If I remember correctly, there should be some selections for the pianoforte on that shelf over there. We haven't got a pianoforte, the girls are more taken with drawing, but I have several friends who have told me they would happily open their home and their instruments to you."

Mary felt relief wash over her. She had not had a chance to learn the layout of the Gardiner house, but she had noticed the definitive lack of a pianoforte in the rooms she had seen. Upon perusing the music, Mary was happy to find several pieces she was interested in learning. She picked out two books for herself as well, both recommended in letters from Lizzy.

It was on the walk back to Gracechurch Street that Mrs. Gardiner thought Mary had looked as content as she had ever seen her: relaxed posture, barely noticeable smile, and clinging to the brown parcel containing her new reading material.

It is just a coincidence, that Mary felt as content as she appeared.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mary was distressed. Tonight she was to accompany Mrs. Gardiner to the Lower Rooms. Mrs. Gardiner had told her a large part of her being invited to Town was indeed to keep her company. It had been a week since her arriving, and she had done little more than read one of her new books, meet a few good friends of the Gardiner family, and bend to the whimsies of her little cousins (she was hesitant to admit how much she, at times, enjoyed those whimsies).

Now she sat, her hair being twisted and pinned, pearl pins were placed in her hair. One of her new dresses, a white muslin with light green accents. Mary was wringing her hands in nervous anticipation. The past week had served to raise the esteem she held her aunt in. Having been such a disappointment to her own mother, she could not bear disappointing her aunt. She resolved herself: she would be polite, talk to her Aunt's acquaintances, and she would even leave all books at home so she would be forced to focus on her manners.

Little did she know, nothing she could do would possibly prepare her for the busyness of London society. As soon as the footman handed her down from the carriage, she was engulfed in a swarm of people. Of course, she had accompanied her family to manny an assembly in Meryton, but never had they been so busy. She stood still as strangers bumped into her and scurried away without acknowledging they had hit her.

Mrs. Gardiner took her niece's arm and led her inside. Mary had thought the street had been busy, but the crowd inside was truly overwhelming. If it weren't for Mrs. Gardiner's arm locked in her own, Mary was certain she would have turned on her heel and shoved her way against the current of people pouring into the building to leave. Her aunt, clearly seeing the distress etched in her features, rubbed the girl's arm affectionately before gently directing her to another room.

Mrs. Gardiner was quickly found by a group of women she was quite well acquainted with but that Mary had not met. Three women, two who were of ages similar to Mrs. Gardiner and one who was closer to Mary's age - she could be one and twenty at most. Mary curtsied to them and told them how happy she was to have made their acquaintance.

Soon she stood within the circle the small group had formed. Her aunt talked a bit about Mary's visit before moving on to different topics. There was very little gossip exchanged between the three older women as it seemed they all preferred talking of shops and their children or grandchildren. Mary found it oddly refreshing compared to the matchmaking mamas she was so used to hearing jabber.

"Miss. Bennet?"

Mary turned to the other young woman who had also been silently listening to the older women. "Yes, ah, I'm sorry Miss. Elingston. Had you asked me something?" Mary could feel the warmth of embarrassment spreading under skin.

Miss. Elingston smiled shyly and flattened an imagined crease in her pink gown before speaking again. "Not at all, Miss. Bennet. I was wondering if you would like to take a turn about the room?" She swiped at her dress again. It became apparent to Mary that this must have been a nervous tick. "Of course, if you would rather not, I understand. I just though you and I may find the tea room or some wine as we have been standing for some time…" she trailed off. She seemed to think Mary's silence was a sign of disinterest.

"I… I would very much like, that is if my aunt will allow me to," Mrs. Gardiner smiled warmly at her niece and nodded before returning to her conversation, "I would quite like to find a drink. I find I had not realized how thirst I was until you had mentioned it, Miss. Elingston."

Miss. Elingston shy smile transformed into an elated grin. She took Mary's arm and they began their search. "I am so glad," Miss. Elingston paused, searching for the right words; she was terrified of sounding silly, "I am so glad to meet someone nearer my age. I hope that we may be friends, if you would not mind?"

"Oh," Mary said as they found two seats in the tea room. "I think- I think I would very much like to have a friend."

Miss. Elingston was alight with her innocent happiness. "Alas, I am so happy to hear that! I am afraid I have not had the best of luck with making friends," the sparkle in her eyes seemed to dim a little. "I am afraid I am more eager to discuss novels than I am to discuss the newest fashion, so when your aunt mentioned your fondness for reading I thought we would surely get on spectacularly."

Mary smiled. She hadn't paid much attention to what her aunt had said about her when she was introduced as she was too focused on not embarrassing herself. "Indeed, I do enjoy reading a good deal. Books are not as fickle in morals and meaning as people tend to be."

The two sipped their tea and discussed books for what felt like a very short time to Mary, but had indeed been rather long. "I cannot believe you have not read any of Radcliffe's novels! They are so romantic, you must read them! I shall lend you my copy of _The Italian_ ," Miss. Elingston said, all astonishment.

"No," Mary chuckled, something she found herself doing more so in her one week in London than she ever had at Longbourn. "Indeed, Miss. Elingston, I do not care to read romances."

"Oh please! Just _The Italian_ and then I shall never make you read another romance again," Miss. Elingston urged. "I have no one to discuss such girlish things with. Please, just this once, indulge me!"

"Have you no sisters?"

Miss. Elingston sighed, "No, indeed I don't. I have a brother, and he is the best of brothers I assure you, but he would laugh at me if I mentioned Radcliffe to him, I'm sure. He is much like you in his thinking romantic novels uninteresting."

Mary wanted so strongly to please her new friend; she herself knew how it felt to be unable to discuss one's interest with siblings. "I suppose it cannot hurt to expand one's literary interest."

Miss. Elingston was bouncing in her seat. "May I call on you tomorrow to bring it? My brother and I will be near Cheapside shopping, and you must read it as soon as possible, so I may talk to you about it."

Mary's face ached from how much she had smiled that night no matter how small the smiles actually were. She opened her mouth to respond but another woman's voice cut her off. "Miss. Elingston, dear, it has been so long. You look very well in pink." The stiff, false smile and sickeningly sweet voice reminded her of Miss. Caroline Bingley.

Miss. Elingston shrunk into herself, something that did not go unnoticed by Mary. "Thank you Miss. Croft. You look," she struggled to find a way to return the compliment without lying, "quite colorful."

"Thank you, sweet girl." She glanced around the room. "Is your family in attendance?"

Miss. Elingston perked up. As to why, Mary had no clue. "Indeed," Miss. Elingston said and Mary noticed Miss. Croft's eyes spark with what was sure to be devious thinking, "My mother is here. Now that you mention it, it is getting quite late." She turned to Mary as she said this. "Miss. Bennet, I believe we should return to our guardians. They must be searching for us as they are surely ready to retreat to their homes."

Mary hummed in agreement and nodded her head. Before Miss. Croft was to make any objection, Miss. Elingston stood, curtsied her farewell, and took Mary's arm in hers. They dashed out of the room and began searching for their respective guardians.

After a while searching in companionable silence, Miss. Elingston spoke, "You must think me extremely horrid for-"

Mary stopped her. "Not at all. I found Miss. Croft quite… similar to someone I know and am not fond of at all." This comforted Miss. Elingston and they fell back into silence, comforted by one another's companionship.

They found Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Elingston had migrated to seats in a parlor after the other woman of their group had rejoined her husband, leaving them to their own discussions. When the girls rejoined them, they felt it a sign to head home as the room was indeed beginning to empty into the streets.

And so, Mary returned back to Gracechurch Street in better spirits than she could ever remember being in before. She regretted having not taken to making friends before, such wonderful things as they were, but she felt certain God had intended Miss. Elginston to be her first friend for a reason. With that thought in her head, she said her prayers as she did every night and climbed into bed.

* * *

Character development is hard. I hope I can do Mary justice.

P.S. Fast updates due to the raging blizzard outside and inability to do anything else.

x Emily Rose


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The day following her first visit to the lower rooms saw Mary helping the Gardiners' oldest daughter, Sarah, as she practiced her French. Mary had laid out one of her new piano pieces she had yet to be able to practice and instructed the younger girl to translate the lyrics. That was how they spent several hours, Mary idly correcting pronunciation and grammar until the rumbling of their stomachs could no longer be ignored, so they went in search of lunch.

Just as they had finished eating, a servant announced a Mr. and Miss. Elingston calling for Mary. Sarah took the opportunity to escape her lessons and scurried away to find a sibling to entertain her. Mary moved out of the dining room and into the parlor to greet her friend.

Mary curtsied when the two entered. Miss. Elingston returned the curtsy and the gentleman bowed. "Miss. Bennet! I am so sorry to stop in so suddenly," Miss. Elingston stepped closer to Mary. "You never did get a chance to answer my question of it was okay for me stop by today." She handed over a brown parcel wrapped in string which Mary accepted with a thanks and placed on a table behind her.

"It's not a problem at all. Today has been rather uneventful."

"Oh good," Miss. Elingston said, clearly relieved she was not intruding. "I mean, not the uneventful part, unless you enjoy uneventful." Miss. Elingston paused her ramblings, a blush rising to her cheeks and a sheepish smile on her lips. "I am so sorry, I must seem so rude. This," she motioned towards the yellow haired gentleman standing a few paces behind her, "is my brother, Mr. Maxton Elingston." He bowed his head in acknowledgement and murmured something akin to 'at your service.' Miss. Elingston turned to her brother. "Maxton, this is my new friend Miss. Bennet of Longbourn in Hertferdshire." Mary nodded at her name, not feeling it necessary to curtsey again.

Mr. Elingston, having been properly introduced, felt he could now speak without a breach in propriety. "Miss. Bennet, my sister has told me she is forcing you to read a Radcliffe. My deepest sympathies, for I am sure there can not be any benefit to reading that kind of material."

He was teasing, but Mary did not realize that. "While I must agree that there are certainly more informative texts, likely texts I personally would enjoy more thoroughly, but you should not be so dismissive of your sisters interests. While you and I may not be so inclined to to indulge in Radcliffe, to judge it without truly having read it." Mary pushed her spectacles up her the bridge of her nose.

Mr. Elingston's eyes were alight with amusement. "I think I can make very good judgement. Women do not need to have their heads so filled to the brim with unrealistic expectations of romance."

"Are you married, sir?"

He quirked his head to the side. "No. May I ask-"

Mary cut him off, "Are you courting anyone, sir?"

He wrinkled his nose in confusion. It was not appropriate to ask such forward questions. "Indeed, I am not."

"And you are like me in that you have not read any of Miss. Radcliffe's novels nor have you any particular interests in their plots?" He simply nodded. "Then how, pray tell, can you be so aware as to what is or is not realistic in a courtship?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, thinking of a response. "Just because I am not courting a woman does not mean I do not know people who have. I know what they have done."

"And what if they are just less enthusiastic in their pursuits or what if their actions are the same as those in the book? You cannot know they are not, unless you have read one of her books." Miss. Elingston wanted to laugh at how pleased Mary looked.

"Miss. Bennet, I have a proposal for you." Mr. Elingston was staring intensely at Mary. She was entirely uncomfortable. He was not at all as easy to talk to as his sister. "My sister and I are going out shopping. I will pick up a copy of whatever novel it is my sister has given to you. You and I will read it and reconvene over tea to discuss our findings like all good scholars do. Then my sister shall have two people to discuss the novel with rather than one."

At the suggestion, Miss. Elingston blushed. "Oh no, Maxton, I do not think-"

"Nonsense, Helena! Miss. Bennet, would a week be a sufficient amount of time for you to read the novel? Would it be more convenient for us to call on you or for you to call on us?" He wanted her to back down. After all, what kind of lady would discus such novels with a man?

But she did not yield. "A week and a day would be best. My sister and her husband will be staying in their Town house for a few weeks, and I have promised to call on them a week from today after they are settled. I can call on Miss. Elingston for tea, we could discuss then."

Miss. Elingston smiled, "Come for luncheon rather than just tea, Miss. Bennet. Our London gardens are not as lovely as our gardens in Cambridge, but they are well enough for a picnic."

Mary nodded. "Indeed, I don't think that should be a problem, and I have found that the outdoors is quite conducive to thinking."

"Then it is settled," Mr. Elingston said, turning to make his exit. "We should take our leave now, for I am in need of a new book and my sister in want of a new bonnet." He gave and overly dramatic bow walked out.

Miss. Elingston moved to exit as well, but turned in the threshold. "Thank you for sticking up for me, although I am sure my brother is right when he says the romance of books is nothing like the romance of reality. I am so glad we are friends." She gave one last smile and left.

Mary watched through the window as her brother handed her into their carriage before stepping in himself. As they rolled away, Mary collapsed in the nearest chair. She could not recall a time she had spoken as much. She felt the need for a short nap, something she rarely indulged in, pressing on her.

Instead she unwrapped the package that had been delivered to her and began to read.

* * *

I feel like my writing always declines the further I delve into a plot. I wanted to make this chapter longer, but I kind of wrote myself into a corner.

Mary is still fairly set in her ways and ready to debate. Miss. Elingston is super excited to have a sincere friend. Mrs. Gardiner didn't really show up much this chapter but she will make an appearance in the next so fret not.

x Emily Rose


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It had been 4 days since the Elingstons had called and 4 days since Mary had delved into _The Italian_. It had been 3 days since Mary had come to the rather embarrassing realization that she was captivated. As a girl who spent her days reading religious texts and historical journals, Mary was enthralled to read something that she did not already know the outcome of. She was mortified to find herself enjoying such frivolous material but she did not stop reading.

She was disappointed when her aunt and uncle had told her of a ball they were to attend that night at the house of a good friend. They attributed her dismay to her lack of social inclination. Neither of them were aware of her newest choice of reading material. She had been very careful to read it only when she was alone.

Now she was stood in a house of the Swintons, leaning against a wall and nursing a cup of punch. Mr. Gardiner had left in search of male companionship as soon as Mrs. Gardiner had been accosted by some women she was familiar with.

Having vowed to leave all books at home when attending social events with the Gardiners, Mary was in need of something else to occupy her thoughts for the night. Luckily for her, she had a good view of the dance lines. She enjoyed watching the synchronization of body to music. She herself had only ever stood to dance with her sisters, and rarely at that.

After half of an hour and 2 cups of punch, Miss. Bennet was throughly bored with staring at random couples dancing.

"Miss. Bennet," Miss. Elingston said much louder than was considered appropriate. She was probably 30 feet from her when she called, but by the time Mary had looked over Miss. Elingston was was hastily scampering to where Mary stood her brother lazily following her at a less urgent pace. "Thank goodness you are here! Whenever my brother comes to social events with me, I am suddenly a commodity among single women who coincidentally find my brother perfectly handsome. I'm sure you know how it goes."

Mary smiled an apologetic smile, "I am afraid I do not."

"Do you not have any brothers, Miss. Bennet?" Mr. Elingston asked, having finally reached the young girls.

"Two by marriage to my older sisters but none of blood, no." She did not include Whickam in her count of brothers for she would not wish him as a relation of anyone.

Miss. Elingston was shocked. "You mean to tell me you are one of three girls and no boys?"

Mary raised her eyebrows and replied, "No. I mean to tell you I am the third of _five_ girls and no boys." Both Elingstons were shocked at this. To not have any sons at all was surely not good for any family. She felt a change in subject was best to ease their minds. "In any case, I must say I am quite happy to see you here as well. I have spent almost the entirety of my time here staring at the dancers for some form of entertainment, but I must admit it quickly became dull."

Miss. Elingston laughed a gentle caught that had made the skin by her eyes crinkle in amusement. She hooked her arm in Mary's. "Well, what shall we do until dinner is served?"

"Indeed, what shall we do?" Mr. Elingston nervously hopped into the conversation. At the confused and slightly amused look of his sister he continued. "You cannot expect to leave me, Helena! I have only come to this because of your urging me to."

"Well, I thought I would need you as a companion, but I was not aware that Miss. Bennet would be here."

"Oh, so you toss your brother aside for a friend?"

"I do indeed."

Mr. Elingston raised a hand to his chest. "Oh, I am wounded."

Mary smiled. She wished for such a happy relationship amount siblings. She supposed, though, that it was partly her own fault for falling short of such a relationship.

Miss. Elingston looked at Mary and joked, "I do not know how we shall ever be rid of him."

Mr. Elingston huffed good-naturedly. "I know when I am not wanted." He directed his attention to Mary. "Miss. Bennet, if you do me the honor of standing with me for the dinner set you should be able to converse with my sister throughout dinner." It was a statement not a question. Mary's throat shut up at the thought of it. She simply nodded her head and tried to remain composed. "I shall leave you two, then, and find you when it is time for the set. Wish me luck amongst the ton." He bowed and walked away.

Miss. Elingston was pleased with her brother's request. She squeezed Mary's arm and they began circling the room slowly, looking for seats. The talked idly of more books, each others' dress, and then the topic turned to music.

Mary was so enraptured by her reading as of late that she'd neglected her practice, not even venturing to look at her new music. She was also hesitant to ask the Gardiners friends to allow her to monopolize their pianoforte for a few hours. She told Miss. Elingston as such.

"Oh, you must play for Maxton and I when you visit. Mother will be sorry she is having lunch with the Wadsworths when she misses your playing, I am sure."

Mary blushed. No one had ever praised her playing and here sat someone praising her without ever having heard. "I am afraid I have never been very proficient on the pianoforte and am quite out of practice since arriving in Town. Still, I love to play, however ill I may sound."

"You certainly could not sound as ill as I, for I never bother to learn." Mary gaped at Miss. Elingston's confession. "I'm afraid it is true. I find that I have always favored drawing, painting, and embroidery much more than musical pursuits."

Mary patted her arm. "I cannot fault you for that. I tried in earnest to better my art, but I am afraid it was in vain."

"Well then, between us we are one very accomplished woman, it would seem."

"Indeed it would," Mary agreed, good-naturedly. She noticed Mrs. Gardiner smiling from across the room and gently nod at her. Mary felt from one simple nod an amount of approval, perhaps even pride, that she had never received from either of her parents. The resulting comfort Mary felt propped an abrupt act of confidence. "Miss. Elingston, excuse me if I you seem impertinent for asking, but would you please call me Mary. If you are comfortable doing such, that is."

Miss. Elingston remained silent for a moment and Mary was nervous. Miss. Elingston finally broke her silence. "I would be honored, Mary, to call you as such, if you will call me Helena." Mary nodded, her confidence from early having been completely spent in the asking of the question. They sat in silence half a minute more before Miss. Elingston, pardon, _Helena_ burst into delighted giggles. "I have never had a friend I could call by her christian name. I am so excited."

Mary let a slight smile return to her lips as a slight blush slipped over her cheeks. "Nor have I. Only my family has ever called me thusly, and I feel it is not quite the same."

Helena held Mary's gloved hands in her own. "No, perhaps not. We shall find out shall we not." She paused and stared over Mary's shoulder. "It seems, however, that my brother is come to fetch you for your dance. While you are dancing, I shall secure our places at the dining table."

Mary turned at the waist, and saw that the man in question was indeed making his way towards the pair. Women turned their heads at his passing, but he paid no mind. Helena had earlier told Mary of his distaste for the 'unreasonable expectations of men and women to woo each other out of necessity of connection' and he was elevated in Mary's esteem. She herself had oft wondered at the society sanctioned mating rituals.

Mr. Elingston, after a witty quip to his sister that Mary had not heard, offered his hand and lead Mary to the dance line.

* * *

Last update before my spring semester starts up unless another blizzard rolls 'round. I will try my darnedest to keep up with updates, but school work comes first. If you get bored while waiting for my updates and haven't already, I recommend reading A Swan in Hiding by Skydancinghobbit here on fanfiction. It's a super cute Mary story that I read when I need a little bit of fluffy happiness.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Mary was surprised at how easily her body reacted to the music. It had been so long since she had stood to dance, but the movements came with little thought. She was not as graceful and dancer as Jane nor as spirited as Elizabeth, but she applied the same intensity of study to her dance as she did to all things and had achieved 'technical' perfection.

Mr. Elingston crossed her path in a sequence of the dance and tilted his head closer to her, "Miss. Bennet, how do you find the writing of our dear Miss. Radcliffe?"

The next their paths crossed, she responded. "If I were to tell you what would we have to discuss in 4 days time?"

"But if not that, what have we to talk about?" Mr. Elingston said before the dance separated them yet again. Mary found a dancing environment was adverse to conversation.

The dance had each person facing their partner for a portion that mostly consisted of stepping closer to one's partner and then retreating back to their previous positions. "We could simply not talk at all."

Mr. Elingston nodded. "Yes, we could." He was silent for all of a minute. "Have you read any Shakespeare, Miss. Bennet?" The dance took them apart again. Whether his questions were purposely placed such to give her time to formulate an answer, Mary did no know. In truth, Mr. Elingston just had very poor timing.

They met again as they joined hands in a part of the dance that dictated 3 couples join hands and dance in a circle. "I have not yet had the opportunity. I must admit, I often find myself studying histories or the Good Book. Perhaps after _The Italian_ I will move on to Shakespeare?"

The circle began to move in the opposite direction. "After luncheon this week, you may exchange my sisters book for one of mine then," the circle broke apart, but the dance allowed the two to remain close enough to speak. "Would you prefer poetry or prose?"

"Well, what would you suggest?"

"I do not know your literary tastes very well, Miss. Bennet, but might I suggest _Hamlet_? It is quite full of wit and leaves much to think about upon completion."

"If that is so, then I think I should enjoy it immensely." That ended the conversation of Shakespeare.

They then moved onto conversations of family during which Mr. Elingston revealed he had recently taken the role of Duke of Somerset after the loss of his father, the previous Duke. Mary impressed her deepest condolences, unable to imagine loosing her papa, and she was not even close to her papa! In a intensely unladylike act, Mary murmured under her breath about now "understanding why match making mamas paid him so much mind." He laughed heartily in agreement.

The dance ended with the women curtseying to the men and the men bowing to the women. Everyone clapped before making their way to the large dining parlor. Mr. Elingston offered his arm to Mary and escorted her to the dinner table. Mary searched out her aunt's eyes. When she caught them, she received a nod this time accompanied by raised eyebrows.

Helena had scouted out seats for them, and shyly directed Mary to sit next to her. "And now I am forced to walk all the way around the table and sit across from you rather than next to you? How easily I am replaced!" Mr. Elingston jested before making his way to the opposite side of the table.

The three chatted happily during the meal, and Mr. Elingston excellently hid his surprise at hearing someone other than he or his mother referring to his sister by her Christian name. When the meal was over, they continued in each others' company until Mary was claimed by Mrs. Gardiner to head home.

"How was your night, Mary dear?" Mr. Gardiner asked as he situated himself in the carriage. Mrs. Gardiner looked at Mary, interested in her response.

"I… I had quite a good night, thank you Uncle. And how was yours?"

The next 4 days passed in a flurry of pages. Before she knew it, the maid, Miss. Smith, was hurriedly pinning back Mary's hair. As soon as her hair was secure, she was whisked away into the Gardiners' carriage. She didn't know where the Elingstons lived but whomever was driving her had been given directions. Mary watched as the scenery of London passed her until the carriage pulled into the drive of an elegant home.

Helena stood at the top of the staircase leading into the house, bouncing on her heels. When the carriage came to a stop, Helena descended the stairs two at a time. As soon as Mary had excited the carriage, she and Helena linked arms, something Mary had become accustomed to since her time in Town. "My brother has gone ahead to prepare the picnic spread in the garden. Shall we go and find him?"

Mary smiled at her friend. "I fear it would be rude not to."

They found him among the daffodils, sat on thick blanket that had been laid over a patch of grass. The food that had been prepared was arranged in the center of the blanket. Mr. Elingston smiled at their approach before reaching for the tea tray beside him. By the time the women had settled themselves on the blanket, tea had been poured for each. As they plopped preferred amounts of milk and sugar to their cups, Mr. Elingston began doling out shares of the food to three separate plates.

They chatted about lighthearted matters as they dined and enjoyed the well weather. When each had a sufficiently full bellies and all topics of polite conversation had been all we exhausted, they moved onto the true matter of the visit. Mr. Elingston's smile shifted; it was a smile still but mischief shone in his eyes and crinkled the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"Miss. Bennet," he said causing her to rise from her reclined position next to Helena and support herself on her elbows, "shall we discuss the marriage of our good friends, Vincentio and Ellena?"

"Quite a series of events took place before the blessed day could be sanctioned," Mary stated.

"I am afraid I must believe that Vincentio is quite singular in his passions! I do not know any men who would pursue a woman so thoroughly."

Mary rose to a seated position. "I am afraid I must agree that it is not the most likely of circumstance, Mr. Elingston, but I know at least one man who would travel the ends of the earth for his love."

Mr. Elingston scoffed. "A man so passionate? How could you possibly know someone as such?"

A subtle smile graced Mary's lips and she turned to stare off into the distance. "Do you recall why I was not able to pay this visit yesterday?"

Helena spoke at this. "Oh! You were to visit your sister and her family! And I did not even inquire after the visit, Mary, I am horrid!"

Mary patted her friesnds arm in assurance that she was not at all horrid before speaking again to Mr. Elingston. "I am not at liberty to say what exact extent my sister's husband would go to for her, but I can tell you that he has already gone far beyond the call of a typical suitor."

Both Elingstons replied, "Indeed?" Helena was clearly enraptured by what the man could have possibly done in the name of love, and Mr. Elingston surprised.

Mary nodded. "Yes, indeed. So Mr. Elingston, I believe a long winded debate may be very easily avoided if we agree to disagree on what is a likely maximum of pursuit, as is fair. After all, the extent to which a man will go for love tells much about him. And, indeed, a woman may interpret such romances as Radcliffe's in different ways, some utterly silly, but that says something about her."

Mr. Elingston let a smile creep back to his face again, a feature Mary found a necessity to truly identify him. "So, Miss. Bennet, you believe that Radcliffe stories simply serve as a way of revealing a person's inclination to frivolity in relation to love?"

"Mayhaps. For some, at least." Mary said after collapsing to her back again. She and Helena whispered to one another, of what, Mr. Elingston knew not. He only knew that his sister seemed comforted by Miss. Bennet's presence. The fact that he did to at all object to her rationality and presence was just a happy coincidence, he was sure.

Half way through this, I started drinking so sorry if that is clear. My roommate got me a Jane Austen mug I've been wanting for christmas without even knowing I wanted it. She just thought I would like it, and she was right.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The rest of Mary's visit passed with ease. After eating, they retired to the music room. Helena sat on the couch with her needlepoint, her brother comfortably situated to her right. Mary sat at a pianoforte as fine Miss. Georgiana Darcy's at Pemberley, an instrument she had the pleasure to play when visiting her sister at her new home. Her skill in music had grown greatly in recent years, much of which she attributed to the gentle tutelage Georgiana had provided in the time she remained at Longbourn while their newly married siblings honeymooned.

So, for the first time in what she considered far too long of a time, she put her fingers to ivory. The three passed nearly 2 and one half hours like such, Helena and Mary chatting when the music softened. They spoke of what friends spoke of, or, at least, Mary supposed so. Mary was surprised to learn that her aunt and Mrs. Elingston and been good girlhood friends before the latter had caught the eye of the man who was, at the time, next in line to become the Duke of Somerset. The match had been met with much contention, but was eventually made official before God.

When it came time for Mary to leave the the carriage the Gardiners had sent for her, it was with a heavy heart. After Mary was comfortably situated in the carriage, Mr. Elingston handed a paper bound parcel to her. Her eyebrows knit themselves together in confusion. "A collection of Shakespeare for us to discuss when we next meet. I did not forget your interest in the Bard."

Mary accepted graciously. "Thank you, sir, for I myself did forget." There was a pause as they looked at one another. Mary felt certain he had something more he had wanted to say, perhaps when he needed them returned by.

Before he was able to get the words out a servant called from the door after the duke. Mary watched him go before waving a final goodbye to Helena as the carriage lurched into motion.

…

"Mary, would you put down that book for an hour or two and practice duets with me?"

Mary looked up from the Shakespearean collection that had engrossed her attentions for the past week and a half. Georgiana had flopped onto the cushion next to her, arms thrown over the back of the settee. Her cheeks were rosy and smile rested on her lips. When Mary did not respond, Georgiana her head to look at Elizabeth, afraid she had overstepped her bounds.

Mary snapped the book shut and set a smile on her lips. "Indeed Georgiana, that sounds like a good idea. One can only ponder words so long whilst maintaining sanity."

Georgiana smiled and grabbed Mary's arm, leading her to the music room. The girls settled on the cushioned bench beside the pianoforte and shuffled through pieces of music. The quickly found a piece that both could play with little thought.

A quarter of an hour later found Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth strolling into the music room, arms snuggly tucked together and smiles on their face. Elizabeth sat in a plush chair nearest the pianoforte while Mr. Darcy called for tea. The girls at the instrument shared a curious look, but continued through the movement. As the final note hung in the air, the girls rose. Elizabeth gave a girlish, giddy laugh while Mr. Darcy applauded them vigorously.

The girls moved to the yellow settee that sat parallel to Elizabeth's seat. During his applause, Mr. Darcy had migrated to stand by the side of the chair Elizabeth occupied, his smile never ceasing. Elizabeth and Georgiana did not seem to find the smile at all out of place as Mary did.

The tea was served and biscuits set out. Elizabeth was quick to snatch her favourite biscuits from the serving tray. No one spoke.

After an eerie minute of china clinking mute chewing, Mary could take no more. She decidedly placed her cup on the tea plate and set them on her lap. "Have you news, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth's eyes lit up, and she let her cup float to the plate that rest on her lap in the same fashion as Mary. "How very perceptive you are Mary!" A beat passed. "Papa says there is a new clergyman heading the parish." She raised her cup back to her lips, her eyes never leaving her sister's.

"Indeed, Mr. Wellson. He had just taken the position a half a month before my coming to Town." Mary said, raising her brows. "Surely, that cannot be the most pressing news, for since you entered the room, you have been a glow with a secret."

At this Georgiana piped in. "I am very good at keeping secrets, Lizzy," it was odd for Mary to hear someone other than their family calling Elizabeth by the pet name she had taken to, granted Georgiana was now, she supposed, family enough, "and I am sure Mary can keep a secret as well for she is too good to betray a promised trust." Georgiana looked warmly at Mary, who smiled back appreciatively for the support.

"How have we jumped from news to secrets?" Mr. Darcy asked, a mischievous akin to Lizzy's alight in his eyes.

"Fitzwilliam, do not tease! It does not suit you!" Georgiana exclaimed quite seriously causing Elizabeth to fall into another fit of giggles.

When she managed to catch her breath and wipe the tears from her eyes, she spoke. "O! Let us not tease them any further, dear, I fear they are too clever for us to fool, our little sisters."

"Indeed, it seems they are," Mr. Darcy said, pulling Elizabeth's hand to his mouth. Mary blushed, feeling she had witnessed something too intimate for her eyes.

Elizabeth turned to the young girls in front of her. "We do indeed of news, my dearest sisters, and I joyous news at that." She glanced at Mr. Darcy, her smile stretching even further. "We are to have a baby."

There was a _pregnant_ silence.

A silence followed by a screech of joy. Georgiana, in all her idilic, ladylike demeanor was up from her position next to Mary and kneeling at Elizabeth's feet in a moment, holding her hands. She chatted unendingly to Elizabeth of her excitement who was pleased at the reaction but could not help her nervous glances towards Mary.

A few moments later, Mary was able to fully grasp the gravity of the situation and stood, slowly moving towards the grouping of Darcys. She was happy, of course, and she told them so. She was glad to see the nerves melt away from her sister's face, although she wasn't certain as to why Elizabeth would care so about her opinion when she never had before.

The last hours of her night's visit were spent chatting about the impending baby. It was a serene night of family jubilation.

Mary found her chest aching in want of such familial content she had never experienced before.

* * *

Hey guys! Yes she should address him more formally but because he was introduced to her less formally she refers to him as such in smaller settings, but around society she will call him Duke or Lord. Thank you all for pointing it out. I may have decided he was duke when slightly intoxicated.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Mary had a trifle of a cold (likely caught while helped the Gardiner children with her studies) which was quite trying on her patience. She had read her borrowed Shakespeare twice, the collection of books she brought from thrice, and was now flipping through _A Vindication of the Rights of Women_ by Mary Wollstonecraft.

Mrs. Gardiner sat in a chair next to her bed while the rest of the family took tea. She held in her hands her own choice of literature: _Gulliver's Travels_ written by a man named Jonathan Swift. "It's quite witty, Mary! Should you tire of Wollstonecraft's serious labour on the behalf of women's education, I will happily lend you my copy."

Mary smiled. "I am quite content for now, Aunt, but thank you." In truth, she had no interest in the book. While she had wet her literary palette with nonsensical pieces as of late, her return to informative literature was a comfort. Anyhow, Elizabeth had sent note that she and Miss. Georgiana would call later in the day while Mr. Darcy tended to estate business, and Mary was positive Elizabeth would be far more interested in her Aunt's 'witty' choice of reading.

…

She was lying flat on her back and sweating. She struggled to open her eyes. All she could make out were blurred figures hovering above her. Her name floated through the air. She didn't know who had said it, she only knew it was the one thing her mind was able to recognize. She tried to call out, but her throat was so dry she could not speak.

Her copy of _A Vindication of the Rights of Women_ sat discarded on the wooden floor.

…

The next time Mary regained consciousness, it was dark and she was shivering. A maid sat at her bed side, eyes closed and breathing even.

"Miss. Smith?" Mary asked, her dry throat barely allowing the words to leave her mouth. Unsurprisingly, her voice did not rouse the woman. She gathered up all the strength she had and managed a gentle swat to the sleeping maid's shoulder. The light tap was enough to wake her.

"Miss. Bennet, glory be, ye's awake! Let me run for yer aunt, Miss."

Miss. Smith jumped from her chair and was out of the room before Mary could beg a glass of water. It felt agonizingly long a wait for Mary before Mrs. Gardiner hurried into the room, sing around her her dressing robe not even closed properly. She sat next to Mary, placing and hand to her forehead and whispering words of comfort and love.

Mary had questions, well, one question really: what had happened to her. And she asked just that.

Well, she had intended to ask just that, but all she could manage was a crass "water?"

Mrs. Gardiner waved her hand at a frazzled Miss. Smith who quickly ran to grab a pitcher of water.

While she was gone, Mrs. Gardiner spoke to Mary, "The doctor said your cold was getting better. He was completely baffled at your getting worse like that." She paused, and wiped a lock of hair from Mary's face. "You were so warm, love. We could have cooked breakfast on your forehead if we wanted." It was a joke, but Mrs. Gardiner's voice was heavy.

Miss. Smith returned with the pitcher and a glass. Mary drank what she was handed swiftly before quietly begging more. In a few moments, she had drained the pitcher and Miss. Smith was gone, this time to make tea and have the cooks prepare a broth.

Mary turned to her aunt. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble, Aunt. Normally I am of a very healthy constitution."

Mrs. Gardiner shook her head. "Elizabeth wanted to stay when she heard you were so unwell, but the rest of us thought it best she not risk it in her condition. Carrying a baby can make a woman more sickly, you know. I will have a letter sent to Darcy House when the day is a bit brighter. Your friend, Lady Elingston that is, stopped by. She paid a social call and was quite distract to find you unwell. I should send her a missive as well."

Mary frowned. "I hate to have caused so much concern."

Mrs. Gardiner patted the girl's leg in reassurance. "Everyone deserves to cause a commotion once in a while. Just don't make a habit of it." She stood from Mary's side then, as Miss. Smith scurried back into the room carrying tea and toast. "I shall go write those missives the, and you should get something in your stomach. You can't recover on an empty stomach."

…

It was within an hour of the missive being sent that the Darcys arrived at Gracechurch Street. It was decided Mary was still too weak to be out of bed, and that the family would have to visit her there. Mary was grateful, as she truly didn't think she would be able to carry herself.

Mary was surprised at the concern each Darcy displayed. Mayhaps she shouldn't have been. Lizzy had always been loyal to her family, no matter what embarrassments they concocted, a trait Mr. Darcy shared having jumped through hoops for both Georgiana and Lydia.

"I am quite well, it is just my muscles that are tired now," Mary said in an attempt to break the silence that filled the room.

Georgiana replied in haste, understanding the awkward attempt at starting a conversation. "Well, I hope the muscles in your fingers recover first, for I am longing to play some more duets. I have just gotten new music that I know you will love."

The two chatted back and forth, Elizabeth or Mr. Darcy inserting remarks when they were not whispering back and forth to one another. It was only when luncheon was called did the conversation cease and the Darcy party leave Mary's side.

Mary passed a few minutes by herself, thumbing the Wollstonecraft that had been placed on her bedside table. Elizabeth reentered with a tray of food: broth for Mary and actual food for Lizzy. Mary was just now realizing how hungry she was, so she hastily reached for her broth only briefly thinking of how it was rather improper for Mrs. Darcy to be doing the job of a servant.

Elizabeth picked at a biscuit and watched her little sister sip her broth with as much grace as she could muster. Something tugged at her heart as she watched her normally solemn sister now: weak and pale. It was a guilt that pulled at her heart; the guilt of not knowing anything of a family member.

Mrs. Gardiner had told Lizzy of Mary's stay in Town. Elizabeth had laughed at the thought of serious Mary helping with the children and being so surrounded by the society she had once heard Mary call 'utterly obsessed with earthly goods and without God.' But another letter from Aunt Gardiner proved how little Lizzy knew of her for the letter said she got on well with the children and had managed to accompany their aunt on several excursions in Town and at balls.

"Lizzy," Mary stared at her older sister and Elizabeth vaguely felt as if she was to receive a scolding, "you should eat more. You are eating for another person now, too, and surely picking at a biscuit is not enough to sustain you much less the person inside of you." It was all said in a matter of fact tone, but it solidified Lizzy's resolve to know her sister as a sister should.

"Mary, Fitzwilliam and I would like to invite you to return to Pemberley with us in a month." Mary's eyes widened but Elizabeth continued. "It would be so great for Georgiana to have a girl her age around and for me to have a sister with me while I am pregnant. Georgiana, of course, is a sister, but she is too young to be confronted with confinement and the like, and you, I think, would be great company for me in these times." Elizabeth ceased her rambling and took a bite of her biscuit, looking at Mary for a response.

"To Pemberley?" Elizabeth nodded. "In a month?" Another nod.

Mary's stomach dropped; whether out of excitement or dismay, she did not know.

* * *

Okay, I know everyone is just trying to be helpful when they tell me how unbelievable my story is, but I'm not planning on going back and fixing it. I already explained that I was tipsy when I made him a duke and wasn't really going to do research in such a state. Something that really bothered me was when someone said "I really liked where you were going with this before you decided to make him a duke" and "Mary isn't even Mary anymore."

I didn't have a plan as to where this was going until I made Elingston a Duke. As for Mary no longer being herself: that's kind of bs I think. She's growing up. She's still got her intellect and snark and judgements about certain things, but she is learning what is and is not proper for her to comment on. Either way, she's going to develop the way I chose to have her develop.

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

God, it feels good to get that off of my chest.

Thanks to all the people have enjoyed this story or gently nudged me in different directions. You guys are the reason I'm even continuing. Tried a different writing structure this chapter. Sorry it was so short, but I have an exam Monday and a speech (on Jane Austen) on Tuesday.

x Emily Rose


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Mary was healing, for the most part, well. Her muscles, never strong like Elizabeth's, took the longest in recovering. Being so weak from the beginning, what literally carried her before her sudden fall to ailment had kept her practically immobile for awhile. The doctor had assured the Gardiners that, so long as she ate regularly and walked about the room as much as was possible when possible, she would recover full functionality of her legs.

Mary was not pleased. She had been sent to London to be a help and had been nothing but a hindrance. She would practice the exercises the doctor had given her, flexing her foot and such, until the muscles were too fatigued to do any more. Slowly, her muscles grew in strength, and she was _finally_ allowed to sit downstairs to read and take her meals.

If Mary thought she was relieved to be well enough to sit downstairs, then the Gardiner children were ecstatic. They were as all children should be: filled with love that they needed to give. They crowded Mary the first time she had been able to venture downstairs, pecking sticky kisses on he cheeks and exclaiming how much they had missed her. Mary chided them, insisting she hadn't gone anywhere but to her room. Still, questionably clean hands grasped at her skirts and she could not find it in her to nudge them away (a failing she attributed to her still weak extremities).

* * *

A week and some days later, Mary felt certain she was well enough to accompany her aunt on a trip to the shops. Well, perhaps she was certain she was well enough, but certain she could force herself to remain upright for the duration.

The two of them glanced through windows, deciding whether or not to go in based on the small amount they could see. Mary thought it a bit shallow minded to judge the capabilities of an artisan based solely on what little product was displayed. 'Still,' she supposed, 'is it not the duty of us all to put our best forward? If you do not display your best, is it not your own fault when no one takes and interest?'

They continued down the shop lined street, stopping in on shops whose craftsmanship impressed. Eventually, the made it to a bookshop. This was not the bookshop Mary had visited before. The windows were quite clean, save the fogged corners that. Mrs. Gardiner, seeing Mary's prolonged stare at the somewhat sullen shop, waved her hand in the direction of her favourite milliner's shop. "I find myself in need of a new bonnet almost as severely as you find yourself in need of a new book, Mary. Shall you shop around in here, and I come find you when I have finished with the milliner?"

Mary nodded and watched as her aunt retreated across the street and into the milliner's. She turned back to the bookshop. She stared at it for a moment longer, noting the worn, wooden sign which read 'Burton's Books' before stepping over the threshold.

The store was dim when she entered, but the light from the large, mostly clean window allowed plenty of light into the building. The smell of so many books in one place filled Mary's nose with a delightful, papery scent. She slipped her the white glove off of her left hand and let her fingers caress the leather spines. The shelves of the bookcases drooped from the weight of knowledge constantly placed atop it.

She wondered the store, occasionally pulling a book from one of the many sagging shelves, reading the dedications and first page before plopping it back into its place. She turned a corner and came face to spines with a stack of books. Whomever was behind the books nearly dropped them all when she materialised in his path. Mary, realising she was in the direct path of the falling books, threw herself against the stack, shoving them back into a neat stack. Her hands, one gloved and one ungloved, touched the hands holding the books. The sensation of skin on skin contact made Mary feel faint, and her already weak legs become even weaker. Mary was sure should would collapse to her knees had the gentleman with the books not backed away from her, taking all of the weight back into his arms.

Said gentleman quirked his head to the side, peering around the tall stack of books, offering his sincerest apologies. Mary's face warmed even more at the voice, thoroughly embarrassed that she should have thrown herself against the books in such an unladylike way in front of someone she knew. "Please, do not worry, I should not turn corners so hastily," Mary said, raising her head and hoping the burning in her cheeks was not visible.

"Miss. Bennet, is that you?" There was surprise in his voice. "My sister told me you were unwell! She has been quite distraught." Duke Elingston bent to set his stack of books on the floor.

"Mr. Elingston," Mary scolded herself for being so casual but continued. "I was quite ill, and I am still not as I once was, but I thought my aunt could use a companion for her shopping and I a walk. My Aunt said she had sent a missive to Helena saying I was well."

A sad smile sat on his face. "A missive, yes. That you were well, no. We were told only that you had awoken after being unconscious for an extensive time."

Mary thought of Helena's easily aroused worry and felt guilt bubbling in her chest. "Please, do tell her that I am recovering very well and not to worry. And tell her I shall write her as soon as we return to Gracechurch street!"

Her concern for Helena eased the tiny fear Elingston harboured that Miss. Bennet no longer cared for the Elingston's company. He opened his mouth to reply, but a man turning the same corner Mary had turned moments before caused a pause. He recognised the man from several business and social encounters. Elingston extended his hand in greeting. "Mr. Darcy, it has been too long. Pray tell, how is your family."

Darcy shook the hand and responded. "Indeed, it has been quite some time. My wife is expecting a child in some months time." Elingston gave him a sincere congratulation, as he dearly loved children. "Yes, and Georgiana has come out recently but has been decidedly against going to any social events until her sister has recovered enough to turn about the rooms with her."

Elingston quirked a brow. "I thought you said you wife was quite well?"

"Indeed, she is," Darcy said, then turning to Mary. "But my wife has many sisters. One _in particular_ who has been quite unwell as of late."

Mary felt another gurgle of guilt at having not been able to be a reliable companion for Georgiana. She knew the discomfort of roaming the rooms of a social event utterly alone, and she knew how it felt to have little to no companionship in those of similar age (she had felt such feelings in her time recovering).

She pushed her spectacles up her nose, and took a deep breath. "I will have to ask Aunt Gardiner, but if she is agreeable to it, I would very much like to invite Georgiana to sit with me for tea sometime this week," she turned to the Duke, "Helena, too, for I feel guilty for having caused her such worry, and I do miss her company dearly." Mary had never hosted anyone before, but even she who everyone felt was content to be alone found herself aching for the companionship she had grown accustomed to during her time in Town.

Darcy nodded his approval at the plan while Duke Elingston was silent. "Sir?" Mary asked, trying to break his silent reverie.

It worked, for the clear humour in his eyes returned and he quirked his head to the side in a questioning manner. "Miss. Bennet, are you indeed related to Mrs. Darcy?" She nodded. "Indeed, I should have guessed. You two are quite different but also very similar." She said nothing but looked at him, surprised to hear herself called similar to lovable Lizzy. He assumed her silence was prodding for an answer rather than what it was: silent contemplation. "Miss. Bennet, if your aunt is agreeable, please send notice to my sister, and I am sure she will be happy to visit you, for she has talked of nothing else.

Duke Elingston made his excuses, bent to pick up his pile of books, and hustled to the counter where he paid and asked to have the books delivered to his home.

Mr. Darcy and Mary spoke a little while longer. He was there pick up a novel for Elizabeth, but had picked a few pieces for himself. He and Mary were quite similar in their literary tastes, and, after sparking her interest in The History of Great Britain by David Hume, he felt it only fair to purchase a copy for her, despite her protests that it was quite unnecessary.

As they exited the shop, Mrs. Gardiner was just about to enter. Delighted to see Mr. Darcy, as she almost always was, they chatted in a friendly manner for some time. It was an hour, still, until Mrs. Gardiner and Mary made it back to Gracechurch street, and only a half hour more before Mary's exertion wore on her and she retired to her room for a short rest.

* * *

If any of you were wondering why Mary was reading a Vindication of the Rights of Women, it's because I have a 4-6 page paper on it due Friday.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Mrs. Gardiner was quite agreeable to the idea of Mary having company. A date was set for tea at the Gardiners' home three days after the meeting at the bookstore. Both girls responded eagerly.

So it was on that overcast, but warm day when three girls of similar ages and contrasting personalities struck up the bond of sisterhood none had ever known. Mary, of course, had witnessed such closeness between Jane and Lizzy or between Kitty and Lydia, but she had never been apart of such a bond. Both Georgiana and Helena were subject to nothing but older brothers in the way of siblings.

Helena arrived first, early and eager to make sure her friend was well. "My brother has told me Miss. Darcy is to join us," she said, linking arms with Mary and dragging her towards the sitting parlour. "I am sure she is nice, though I have never met her myself. Still I wanted time with you to myself. I've so much to tell you about, if you are well enough to hear it."

Mary smiled at the eccentrics of her friend. The Darcys, being family, were able to call often during her time on the sick bed, and Georgiana had always made sure to be present on these visits. Mary, of course, enjoyed the company, but had still felt the loss of Helena dearly. Now, comfortably seated on the davenport, Mary listened to the trivial things Helena so dearly loved relating to her.

As Helena was describing a ribbon of lace that adorned her newest bonnet, Mary felt a pang in her heart. What would she do at Pemberley without her friend? She would have Georgiana, but she was not Helena just as Helena was not Georgiana. Still, she knew she could not and would not remain in the Gardiner's charge forever. At least, if she agreed to go she would not need to return to Kitty's company.

Her eyes stung. She vowed to think no more of it until it need be addressed and returned her attentions to Helena's words. The need to address it, however, came too soon for Mary's tasting.

Georgiana arrived promptly at the appointed tea time. Mary made proper introductions, each dropping into a curtsey as her name was spoken. While uncomfortable at first, Helena and Georgiana quickly settled into comfortable companionship discussing all sorts of things. When the topic of books arose, the topic, as it did with most young women of the age, turned to Ms. Radcliffe's novellas, and Georgiana was astounded to find Mary had read one of Radcliffe's stories with something akin to enjoyment.

"O, Mary, should ever Lizzy found out, you would be most heartedly mocked!" Georgiana exclaimed, a blush on her cheeks and girlish curiosity in her eyes.

"Miss. Darcy," Helena said, adopting a mock seriousness of tone, "How can a woman condemn such writing if she has never read it. Surely Mrs. Darcy cannot make a judgement on something she knows so little about outside of what she has heard of it."

Mary stifled a smile, but Georgiana was unable to do even that, and let a full gutted laugh escape her. At Helena's look of utter confusion, Mary attempted to explain the amusement's roots. When she was unable to explain the ins and outs of the story, Georgiana took over, having heard the story many times from both Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, leaving out less savoury bits of the story.

"They had such misunderstandings and yet they are together?" Helena said, awestruck. "They are truly a fine example of romantic destiny! O, how could your sister not like Radcliffe novels when it is almost as if she lived one?" Helena was looking between Georgiana and Mary, clearly expecting some sort of answer.

Georgiana was the one to put her out of her misery of expectation. "It is not her kind of reading I suppose. But that does not matter, for they together make Pemberley the home it ceased to be upon our mother's death." Georgiana turned to Mary at this point, putting her hands over hers, "And it will be even more a happy home when you come to stay with us, Mary! And just think, we shall be aunts in some months time!"

Mary smiled at the eager girl and opened her mouth to make a reply, but Helena spoke first, hesitant, "You are to stay at Pemberley, Mary?" There was a look of betrayal in her eyes, one Mary imagined an abandoned orphan would wear.

"I cannot burden the Gardiners forever, and Lizzy thought two of her sisters there to help her when her time of confinement comes would be better than one." Mary found that her choice had already been made, although she had yet to fully realise it. She would go to Pemberley.

Helena opened her mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. "I have heard that Derbyshire is quite a lovely expanse of country." She sipped her tea and looked anywhere but Mary.

"It is not so far from Town, Lady Elingston," Georgiana said, trying to reverse the awkward atmosphere she'd unintentionally caused.

No one responded and, after a few more attempts at conversation starting with no success, a servant entered the room and announced the arrival of Darcy's carriage. Georgiana looked at the two girls: one sullen by nature and another sullen by circumstance. A tenth of an hour passed in silence before the same servant returned announcing the Elingston's carriage. The farewells were short, and Mary was left to herself.

Helena, however, was not alone. She sat with her brother, her low spirits clear to Maxton. Every time he tried to approach some form of conversation, Helena managed to expertly divert it. It was not until two days later he was able to get answers when he found her alone in the house library. Additional prodding eventually yielded a result, although it was result he was not happy to receive.

"It is much more lonesome to be alone after knowing what it feels like to not be so," she said, staring at a page of some open book of which she had not intent of actually reading.

"What ever are you going on about? You have mother and I and Miss. Bennet," He responded, clearly confused by her proposition of being so lonesome.

"Mother is my mother, not a friend or confidant. You, well, you are my brother and you are one of my best friends and not a friend at all in the same respect. I cannot be expected to have only family as my friends," Helena said, flipping to another page she would not read. "And Mary is to leave Town soon and stay with her sister's family in Derbyshire."

"Derbyshire? Miss. Bennet?"

Her brother's clear disbelief at the mater only served to worsen her upset. "She is to leave in a month's time! I will be so alone then, with out her," she cried, turning away from her brother and moving to stare out the window.

"Miss. Bennet is to leave London?" the Duke asked, his breathy voice barely reaching Helena's ears.

"And she did not even tell me. It was Miss. Darcy who brought it up at tea. She will return to the peace and quiet she values and completely forget me!"

Maxton shoved his feelings on the matter aside and grappled for some way to comfort his sister. "Perhaps you can correspond? It is not so far, after all, and your letters should reach each other promptly, only a day or two after having written."

Helena threw the book from her lap and threw herself face down on the davenport. "And then I shall have to wait two more days for her response to reach me, assuming she responds the day she receives the letter. A total of four days to speak with her? O, it is not the same!"

And he knew she was right. His chest ached in what he assumed was sympathy for his sister's grief. "It is better than not keeping at all in touch. And if she ever plans to return to town with the Darcys, you shall know." He kneeled next to her and set to lightly stroking her hair like their father used to do when either was sick. "Miss. Bennet is very serious - I've never seen someone so serious about everything! - and that leads me to believe she would not take her friends lightly. You doubt her too much! If I were her, I would be quite hurt at the lack of faith you have."

Helena turned her head just enough to peek at her brother through one teary eye. Her brother had a point. Still, she hurt for the loss of being able to call on Mary at any time and she hurt that Mary had known she would leave without even mentioning to her. "Perhaps I will call tomorrow?" She looked at her brother, eyebrows arched and questioning if it was the right choice.

The reply she received was, "You know, I think you are quite in need of a new set of stationary and, as it so happens, there is a lovely stationary shop just a block from Gracechurch street. It would be quite rude for us to call on Miss. Bennet and the Gardiners."

And so, Helena resolved that she would not lose her first friend. When she laid down that night to sleep, she found the relief would not come. It was nearing dawn when the thoughts finally quieted enough for her to fall into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Someone pointed out that my spelling was off last chapter, but I actually just changed my spellcheck dictionary to British English for the purposes of this story. So if you're wondering why I went from American spellings of words to British spellings, that is why. I also discovered I write like a maniac if I'm wired on coffee, so I'm trying to sell my needlework on etsy. Also, I have finally read Wuthering Heights, and I hated everything about it. Literally thinking about creating a book tube for reviews and such just to complain.

Yours,

Jerusha Abbott (Not Affiliated with the John Grier Home)


	12. Chapter 11

The weather outside the window was dreary. _I perfect reflection of how I feel_ , Mary thought before mentally admonishing herself for being such a sorry sight. She could not drag herself out of her despair, however, and so she sat gazing unblinkingly at page 28 of whatever novel she had plucked open and plopped on her lap. She only lifted her head when a servant stepped into the room and announced Lady Elingston's visit.

They curtsied to one another before sitting across from one another on separate settees and exchanging pleasantries. The atmosphere was undeniably awkward. Helena could not stand being so distanced from her first and truest friend. "Would the Darcys' be quite objecting to our corresponding?" she blurted out when the uncomfortable lull in conversation became too much for her to bear.

Mary's eyes widened and for a moment she had forgotten how to speak. Helena waited for a response with bated breath, every moment that passed causing fear to press in her chest. "I am sure they would be most pleased for us to keep our correspondence," Mary said, adding after a moment, "and I would be quite devastated if I were to lose your friendship."

That being said, Helena flew across the space that divided them, sitting next to Mary and taking her hands. "If you should like, and if Mrs. Gardiner can spare you, my brother is outside in the carriage and has promised that to get you and I new stationary to write one another, should you be agreeable.

Mary, ever full of reason, responded, "I do not think I need new stationary, but I would quite like to accompany you anyhow."

"Nonsense! We should have matching stationary! You may use your usual stationary with anyone else you correspond with, but you must use a special stationary for me!" She giggled gayly, elated and relieved to know that she would still be able to write to her friend. She would not let herself think of how much she knew she would miss being able to call on Mary and walk about Town with her. Thus, it was with glee in her heart that Helena dragged Mary to the carriage and they were off to the stationary shoppes.

When they arrived, Maxton stood in the stationary store and watched as his sister dragged Miss. Bennet from one artfully designed paper to the next. Miss. Bennet allowed herself to be dragged to and fro, complacent to Helena's zealous inspection and critiques of various papers. When the girls backs were turned the bought two matching quills and crystal inkwells to accompany their new parchment.

Helena thanked Maxton with gratuitous hug, insisting it completed the matching stationary set. "It will be as if we are writing to each other in the same room, just missing each other but leaving a letter in our wake!"

Mary cradled the inkwell in her palm, staring in awe at the detailing that decorated its surface. "Thank you," she said, looking up at him. "I had always coveted Papa's inkwell in his office, and now I have one of my own."

And, as she returned her gaze to the inkwell with admiration, Maxton was struck by her simple beauty. As he handed her into the carriage after Helena, he marvelled at how small her gloved hand looked in his.

As she and Helena hugged for what would be the last time in awhile, Maxton felt that he too was losing a - friend? sister? No, those words were not reflective of what he felt. He said his farewells to Mary when Helena finally released her, insisting the next time they met they would have plenty of novels to discuss.

As the Elingston's departed, Helena leaning out of the carriage and waving a goodbye, Mary's chest throbbed. In the two weeks Mary had left in Town, she would not see the Elingstons, though not for lack of trying. It seemed whenever one girl called the other was out or engaged.

And then she was seated across from Georgiana in a rattling carriage, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy in the carriage in front of them. Georgiana, after being assured she did not cause a lasting riff between Helena and Mary, was at peace, content to chat about how excited she was to have Mary with them before falling asleep.

Sleep, however, chose to evade Mary that first day. She folded her shawl in a makeshift pillow and slid it under Georgiana's head. The rattling of the carriage was driving Mary mad. She wanted to stand and busy herself with something until sleep was inevitable, or to pen a letter to Helena. But her pen and paper were in her bag atop the carriage and, even if she'd had access to them, her writing would not be steady.

So she sat, gazing at the passing scenery. The carriage stopped twice to change the exhausted horses for spry ones. At the second stop, Mary asked the driver if he would help her fetch a book from her baggage, and he easily obliged.

When the carriage lurched into motion again, Mary watched Georgiana briefly shook into awakening before falling back into a peaceful sleep, before she opened _Virtue Rewarded_ * and began to read. She was slightly embarrassed by her newly founded love of fiction, but found she could not resist the draw of such frivolous story telling once in awhile. When it became apparent that the Helena and Mary were not likely to catch one another before the departure, Helena sent a book (Virtue Rewarded) and a note reminding Mary to write to her as soon as she was settled at Pemberley. If it weren't considered a social faux pas, she would have insisted Mary write her before she even had a moment to breathe.

Another day and several hours passed in this fashion, and Mary, now fully submerged in the novel and concerned for Pamela, was tugged back into reality by Georgiana. Georgiana had taken to embroidery work when she was awake, but now her hoop sat at her side, the needle stuck in the fabric. Georgiana pointed at something seen in the distance, only a mere three miles away. "Finally, we will be able to stretch our legs without having to immediately retreat back into the confines of a carriage."

Mary smiled and gave a small nod of agreement, closing her book and turning her head to watch as Pembereley grew in stature as the distance was closed. It was daunting. Mary was sure she would never be able to remember the layout of the house.

Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth stood outside the front of the house, revelling in the pleasure of stretching their legs. Mary and Georgiana joined them, quite sure they would not sit for the rest of the day. The servants carried in luggage, and a woman (Mrs. Reynolds, if Mary recalled correctly) created the group with welcome homes, bending over to whisper a special welcome to Elizabeths stomach, or, as Mrs. Reynolds had called it, the little master.

It was with a bit of regret that the group eventually entered the estate, each feeling a toilette was necessary after the long journey, and, as much as she longed to find a secluded part of the house and write a long winded letter of her uneventful travels to Helena, Mary had to agree.

* * *

*Pamela: Or, Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson

This chapter is a little bit of a filler, so I could get them to Pemberley. The next should be more eventful.

I changed my major to English. Also, I just found out Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812 is based on War and Peace which I haven't read yet. Super disappointed to know such a major plot point before even reading. So yeah. that's what's up with me. Also, might start a LizzyXDarcy story because there aren't enough of the one's were Lizzy and Georgiana are BFFs imho


	13. Chapter 12

The letters were consistent, and for that Mary and Helena were both grateful. Mary would talk of Georgiana's playing, the peacefulness of Derbyshire, the ever expanding Elizabeth, and the increasingly doting (which Mary hadn't though possible) Mr. Darcy. In return, Helena would regale Mary with Town gossip, the assembly rooms (of which she absolutely dreaded going without Mary by her side), and of all the new books that she'd purchased as of late.

Each letter Mary received ended:

 _My brother sends his best wishes, and you know I miss you dearly._

 _Your loyal friend,_

 _Lady Helena Elingston_

This only served to depend Mary's sorrow. She was happy to know that Helena missed her as much as she missed Helena; she was sad to know that she was causing Helena the same suffering she was experiencing that comes from missing a friend. She was elated to know the duke hadn't yet forgotten her completely; she was disappointed that each letter she only received his best wishes, although what else she wished from him she scarcely knew. And so the weeks went.

One day, however, the routine Mary had come to rely on as the way things were to be was interrupted. Mary was lounging in the music room, taking turns with Georgiana on the pianoforte. Elizabeth walked into the room, a letter and package in hand. "Mary, it seems Lady Elingston has sent a missive and what I am assuming is a novel from weight and shape." She handed the things to Mary.

The handwriting was indeed Helena's, and Mary tore into the note with worry. It was not the day to expect a letter from her, and Mary's chest constricted with fear that some tragedy had befallen the Elingstons. _But_ , she told herself, s _urely she would not have bothered to send a package if circumstances were so dire._

 _Dearest Mary,_ the letter began,

 _I have very exciting news, very exciting indeed! My brother has seen what low spirits have overcome me since your departure and seems to have adopted a similar state of depression. -_

Reading this made Mary's heart flutter, and she was disappointed that Helena was not specific as to whether his spirits were affected by Mary's departure or Helena's mood. She returned to reading the letter with bated breath.

 _And so, he has secured us a temporary estate but 9 miles from the edge Pemberley's property! Mother will remain in Town, and Maxton and I shall leave for Derbyshire in a weeks time! I have much packing to do, so I shall have to keep this message short._

 _I miss you dearly, and shall see you soon. Send my regards to the Darcys!_

 _Your very busy, breathless, and best friend,_

 _Lady Helena Elingston_

 _PS_

 _I have heard scandalous murmurings of a novel by the name of The Monk. Naturally, I have procured two copies, one of which I will send with this novel. You must only read it when you are alone, for you will surely blush while reading it. We will discuss it when I arrive._

Mary folded the letter and stuck it under the strings of the parcel. Her heart was beating and she was bouncing with sudden excitement. "Georgiana," she said, moving to take a seat on the piano bench.

"What news, Mary?" Georgiana asked. "All good, I should hope."

Mary smiled. "Good, indeed. Helena and her brother, the duke, are to let an estate just 9 miles from here for some time. They are to arrive in about a week's time."

Georgiana smiled at Mary's breathless delight. It was rare to see Mary so open with her feelings. "Well, they must have secured Thrushton for that is the only place so close, and I know for a fact that the owners, a nice old couple, were looking to retire to Bath for the winter." Mary nodded politely, but she was not truly listening. "Shall I got tell Fitz and Lizzy? It is your turn to play, after all, and I know you wont have any time at all to play once Lady Elingston is here."

Mary nodded and watched Georgiana leave the room, but she did not play. She stared at her sheet music but did not read it. Her excitement in the thought of seeing Helena was not to persist, as was quickly proven when the thought of Helena's brother caused an icy cold sensation to stir in her belly. It was a feeling that brought much frustration, for Mary could not place why he would cause a feeling so close to dread. He had been mouthy and challenged her often, but he had never been at all unkind, and so she had no reason for the feeling.

Later that night, after everyone had retired, Mary pulled the brow paper parcel onto her lap. Her candle stood alight on the nightstand, and a fire was raging in the fireplace ad Pemeberley winters tended to get paper surrounding the book was cold compared to her warm surroundings. Her fingers tickled the string that kept the parcel together.

As her fingers tugged the string and the paper brown wrapping removed, Mary's heart began thundering. She felt she was doing something naughty, and she had never been the naughty Bennet before. Yet here she sat, a red book that had garnered enough attention to solicit scandalous rumours glaring at her from her lap.

And as she opened the book, she thought that perhaps she should not read it at all. But as the her eye caught the first word, it naturally flew to the next. She whispered the opening lines.

"Dreams, magic terrors, spells of mighty power,

Witches, and ghosts who rove at midnight hour."

And she new immediately that she could not turn back. She turned to the next page, and began the preface. A few more page turns and she was into chapter one and her blush spread from her cheeks down to her neck and up through her ears at the depiction of the old woman's companion. She slammed the book shut and threw it off the bed.

She could not read it. She would not read it. She sat up in her bed, staring at where the book had landed. Her feet dangled over the edge of the bed and her toes grazed the cold floor. The warmth from the fireplace had only warmed the air thus far. Mary scurried to where the book was, nabbed it off the floor and hurried back to the bed, and leaped under the covers, rubbing one foot against the other in the hopes of warming them.

Again, she opened that book. And again she closed it, this time not having read a single word. She slid the book under under her pillow, and collapsed atop it, and she felt the exhaustion the day had brought. Her excitement at the thought of Helena, nervousness and fear at the thought of the duke, and utter embarrassment at the descriptive novel had taxed her energy greatly.

Mary's muscles went slack and sleep overcame her.

* * *

I'm sorry if all of these updates seem super short. They look a lot longer in my word processor, but I squish the window to have the screen size which is likely why it seems to be much more to me than it is to you all.


	14. Chapter 13

Maxton was happy. Maxton was happy because Helena was happy. Bouncing in her seat, really, so much so that he wouldn't be surprised if the carriage came to a halt yet continued to rock. Helena, as vibrant and sincere of a girl as she was, tended towards intensity in all that she did and felt. It was a trait that, in the past, had made it difficult for her to keep friends for a long period of time.

In the months that had passed since Miss Mary Benent's departure from Town, Helena's spirits had been dampened greatly. While the other women of society seemed to be pleased at her eccentric behaviour's decay, Maxton and his mother were simply concerned. Every now and then, yes, they had wanted her to be more demure, but the fact of the matter was that her uncaged nature was the core of her personality. Without it, she was not herself.

So, when his mother suggested securing an invitation for Helena with some distant family member, Maxton could not object; at least, he could not completely object. "Mother, I believe it would be best to secure a house. It would not do well to leave Helena in the care of family members who know little of her demeanour," he said, to her during one such conversation.

"Well, she has little demeanour at all as of now! And, certainly you cannot think that Helena should live on her own! It is not right."

"Well," he hadn't ever intended to send her on her own, "I would go with her. You have handled the estate business before, and you handle the house even now, for the most part."

His mother huffed. "And what shall you have to do in Derbyshire?"

"Well, I might catch up on my reading. Allow myself a bit of relaxation, perhaps, before we return to Somerset for the summer?" His mother begrudgingly agreed, dismayed at the thought of being without either of her children for so long.

Indeed, he had just finished sorting a large amount of business and felt her deserved a break, although it was not his only person in wanting to see Derbyshire along side his sister. In truth, he had an unearthly and unreasonable need to see Miss Bennet, pressing his chest and constraining his heart. So, he set out to find a place near enough to Pemberley and was pleased to find one just 9 miles from the edge of the property whose owners hoped to retreat to Bath for the winter (though the duke himself could not fathom why).

And now, as he stepped out of the carriage, Helena having already leaped out at its stop, the pressure in his chest grew in intensity as if anticipating its relief. His eyes followed Helena as she ran to the front of Pemberley and embraced her friend. He moved towards them. The pressure mounted more still.

He greeted the Darcys politely, and they welcomed him as their new (temporary) neighbours. All the while, he watched the girls from the corner of his vision. His sister let go of Miss Bennet, and his chest let go of its ache.

Mary's chest felt as if it would burst. She curtsied. He bowed. "Miss Bennet" he greeted her politely.

Elizabeth laughed. "It is so funny to me that Mary is now the true Miss Bennet, as Jane and I have both married. Since Jane and I married at the same, I never got my turn at being the proper Miss Bennet. You must represent us very well, Mary, as I am sure you will, for you have always been the best behaved of us."

Elizabeth was surprised by the blush that spread across the rounds of Mary's cheeks, but she said nothing. Instead, she invited their guests into their home. Georgiana, Helena, and Mary sat together on a window seat in the drawing room. Helena talked animatedly, mostly to Mary but certain to include Georgiana when she remembered. Georgiana, for her part, was content to watch the girls, making her opinion known only when appropriate.

Her time with Elizabeth had taught her what joys could be found in the art of observation and silently watched Mary's spirits lift as she was reunited with her friend. Eventually, she moved across the room to where Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam, and his grace to take up observation of that group, as she saw Elizabeth also doing.

His grace was extremely polite and surprisingly of a lax personality. His eyes darted across the room to where Lady Elingston and Mary sat, now whispering to one another in the most girlish glee anyone had ever seen Mary display. Fitzwilliam asked a question thrice before his grace returned his attentions back to the conversation. "I'm sorry, Darcy, what were you saying?"

Fitzwilliam smiled as he often did in good company. "You needn't worry about your sister with Mary. She has no ill will in her."

At this, his grace laughed. "Oh, no! I would not suspect Miss Bennet of any malice at all. I am sorry if it seemed so. I was just wondering what the two of them were conspiring about, is all." He hadn't been. He had been watching the blush floating from Mary's cheeks to her neck and disappearing below her dress. He had been watching how cheeks dimpled when she smiled. He had been watching how small pieces of her hair loosely fell from their proper place and touched her face. He had been watching how her delicate fingers pressed her spectacles up her nose and he watched as they slipped back down.

Elizabeth smiled. "I believe they had agreed upon a novel to read at the same time so to have something to discus upon your arrival." A nervous servant had, upon changing the sheets on Mary's bed, found _The Monk_ hidden below the pillow and approached Elizabeth with knowledge. She just laughed, told the servant not to mention it, and then laughed some more. The idea of Mary actually reading such a novel was such a picture. Elizabeth imagined the girl scowling at every turn of page.

She was not wrong, however. Mary gently admonished Helena for even knowing that such a book existed. "But you did read it?" Helena asked, the smile of someone who has successfully drawn someone into a secret. Mary blushed still more and nodded. Helena erupted into another fit of giggles, attempting to smother the sound with a hand to her mouth.

Elizabeth and Georgiana excused themselves to the gardens for a ramble, sensing that their only option for actual conversation was to form their own group as the men and other ladies had. And so the afternoon was spent, content in their separate bubbles. At a point Mary had even forgotten that Mr Elingston - his Grace, she tried to correct herself but Helena's informal introduction seemed to stay fixed in her heart - was even there. Her heart beat steadied.

"O! Mary, I know I have already said it, but you do not know how I have missed you," Helena grasped her friends hands and smiled.

"And I, you," Mary said.

"You know," Helena shifted in her seat and returned to their previous conversation, happy that her sentiments had been reaffirmed. "I overheard some servants in the kitchen talking about _that_ book when I was sneaking about the kitchens for a snack. 'Scandalous' they said! 'Worse than Byron' they said! So naturally later I found one of them alone and gave her the money to get our two copies."

Mary scowled, "Did you ever think that perhaps a book you cannot purchase yourself is not a book you should be reading?"

"O, posh!"

And with that, Mary let the conversation return to discussion of the novel itself, for she felt if she did not talk about it her guilt would somehow manifest physically and a simple glance at her would tell the world what she did. So they talked more and blushed more and giggled more.

And Maxton Elingston never let Mary Bennet slip from his peripheral vision.


	15. Chapter 14

Mary stood behind Georgiana, twisting and pinning her golden hair in the style she asked for. They were to go to Thrushton that night for a small ball to be compiled of Derbyshire's polite society. The duke had deemed it was only polite to host his new neighbours for a night: he knew what speculations communities tended towards when left to their own imaginations, and Mr. Darcy's agreement on the matter and reasoning was enough to propel a plan forward.

Georgiana sat in front of the glass, watching Mary's deft fingers work. Mary had put her own had put her own hair into her usual, simple style in a matter of minutes and Georgiana felt it just would not do. She was not a vain girl, but she had hopes and plans for the evening that involved Mary looking her absolute best. Mary's fingers stopped their gentle movements, and Georgiana noticed she'd finished her hair.

"Mary, sit now and let me do your hair. I saw a style on my last trip to the milliners that I think would flatter you very well," she said, rising and motioning for Mary to take her place. Mary's protest was weak hearted, as she knew of Georgiana's innocent love of fashion. She sat, and Georgiana pulled the pins out of the dark hair in front of her.

On their walk, Elizabeth and Georgiana noticed they'd observed similar actions and come to the same conclusion. Duke Elingston was clearly staring at Mary: enough so that even Darcy had noticed. Luckily for the girls, Darcy had always been inept at interpreting looks of love. Elizabeth got a good laugh from Mary's blush, as she thought it made her look quite like the silly, lovesick girls she'd so condemned. Still, she wasn't sure if it was her fear that Mary would never act on her feelings, or the motherly senses she was acquiring that caused her to undertake the forwarding of the match.

So when the two heard of the ball, the Elizabeth and Georgiana put their heads together to formulate a plan: well, it wasn't a plan, really, it was more of a mode of action. They would simply promote the match subtly whenever the chance arose, so not to be obvious in their intent. The ball was the first occasion to present itself, and Georgiana would take advantage of it.

She stuck the final hair pin in, jade tipped, and let her hands fall to Mary's shoulders and ducked to look into the glass with her. "Now you are ready for to dance."

"Oh, I do not think I will be dancing much tonight," Mary said, patting Georgiana's hand. "But I have secured your hair very firmly, so you may dance as much as you like."

"Oh, I do not think I want to dance much. Perhaps, I will stand with you and Helena."

Mary smiled. "I think Helena, as much as she would like to be with us, will have to play hostess to the guests. But I think you and I shall keep each other in well company."

The girls smoothed their gowns and took each others arms as they walked made their way to the parlour where Fitzwilliam and Lizzy were waiting.

Mary moved away from Georgiana and sat next to Lizzy. "Elizabeth, you must tell me honestly: are you really going to be okay with no one to keep you company tonight?"

Lizzy laughed. Mary was a worrier: a woman of nervousness, like their mother, although with better reason. "I will not be alone, Mary, for Mrs. Reynolds has agreed to sit with me through the night. Go, you! Dance and be merry." She laughed abruptly. "Dance and be Mary." At that, they all laughed.

"You are getting near your time of confinement, Lizzy, so please take things easy." Mary was serious in her request but Elizabeth brushed it off with a joke and a laugh. Mr. Darcy ducked down to kiss her cheek before he escorted his younger sisters to Thruston, and echoed Mary's concerns.

When the party of three arrived, they were met by both Elingstons who were standing by the entrance and greeting guests as they came. Helena embraced Georgiana and Mary at once. "I have never loathed social gatherings so much as I loathe them now," she said. Mary smiled and said nothing, having never had to act as a hostess.

Georgiana was sympathetic. "I know what you mean. I have not hosted much for that exact reason! The idea of a grand event seems all well and good until you are on the readying end of it."

The duke had greeted them before jumping into a conversation about estate business with Darcy. Soon, though, there was the recognisable sound of wheels on the stoney path leading to the house, and Helena knew she must return to greeting newcomers. "As soon as the guests stop showing up, we shall ban together against the masses and find somewhere to sit to tea." She was only partly serious, as she was in most her meanings.

Darcy moved to the mass of other guests and made an attempt to socialise, greeting those he knew and passing on Elizabeth's we wishes. Georgiana and Mary linked arms again, and made to follow.

"Miss Bennet!"

The girls dropped each other's arms and turned back, looking now at the duke. "Yes, your grace?"

He looked at her now, as if he had not thought of what to say after she responded. He glanced behind him at the approaching guests, and then again at her. "If you are not otherwise engaged, would you save me the first set?"

Georgiana waited for Mary's response, but when it did not come swiftly enough, she spoke up, "Mary is not engaged, are you Mary?"

Mary shook her head to indicate that she indeed was free, and found just enough of her voice to say, "I will save the first set, sir."

Georgiana and Helena watched then as the duke gave an awkward, unnecessary bow and received the same in return. Georgiana grabbed Mary's elbow and led her away.

Helena hooked her hand into the crevice of her brother's elbow, and they greeted the next influx of guests. When the group moved past them and into the room, Helena titled her head back to look at her brother. "You have danced with Mary before, Max. Why are you so anxious now?"

All of the pieces that Georgiana and Elizabeth had put together before were now sliding into place within her mind. Extra pieces, pieces only she had bared witness to in Town, flit through her mind.

Maxton swallowed and tried desperately to avoid having this conversation with his sister. "It has been very long since I've danced with Miss Bennet, is all."

"Oh. Well do be sure not to step on her toes," Helena said, watching the panic at her response clearly wrinkle his face. She let him stew in the fear of his potential misstep a few second before she spoke again, this time in a soft voice she rarely used. "You should have told me how you have been feeling. I am your best asset in winning Mary's heart."

He sighed and looked down the drive, waiting for another carriage to come and end this uncomfortable discussion, but none were to be seen. Still, he refused to look at Helena's face. "I'm not even sure of how I feel."

Helena glanced over her shoulder before doing a double take. "Speaking of Mary, who is that offering his arm to her."

Maxton whipped around, searching for her. It was only when he could not find her that he realised what Helena was doing. As sure as the chill in the air, Helena stood with a hand to her hip and a quirked eyebrow. And as his anger at her trick quickly subsided, his certainty of his feelings appeared. "How does one know he is in love when he has never felt it before?" he asked his sister, who was well versed in romantic novels.

She smiled. "I'm afraid it is for you to tell me that." She looked down the drive once more and, satisfied there were no more guests to arrive, moved to find her friends.

* * *

I'm pounding out chapters for this and Like a Sister as an avoidance mechanism; alas, finals are upon us.


	16. Chapter 15

The Duke stood int he corner of the room, chatting with whomever demanded his attention. All the while, he kept his eyes glued to where his sister stood with Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet. He was equal parts excited and frightened to dance with Miss Bennet: he longed to here her speak her strict sermons and to jokingly dismiss them as they had in London, but he feared his tongue would cease its function just as soon as she set eyes on him as they sometimes did. Still, he waited anxiously for the music to begin. It seemed an agonisingly long wait, and he was beginning to wonder if the players were simply waiting for him when the music began.

He moved to Mary then, offering his arm and leading her to the middle of the room. They fell into the dance line easily, speaking little more than pleasantries. When the silence became to much for either to handle, the two spoke at once; the resulting embarrassment forcing them to lapse into another fold of silence.

When the set ended with little headway being made linguistically, Elingston was none too please. "Miss Bennet, would you mind terribly to dance another with me."

Mary blushed - rather becomingly, if one were to ask the Duke - and agreed. "No, I do not think I should mind terribly."

When more couples replaced those that left the dance line, the music started again. Not wanting to waste what time he had with her, Elingston settled for the first piece of conversation he thought of. "Miss Bennet, have you a new pair of spectacles? I thought yours were shaped differently."

Mary was flustered at his having noticed: she had only had the new frames but a week, and only upon her brother-in-law's insistence. "Yes, Mr. Darcy noticed how ill my previous pair sat on my face and had a new set made for me. It was only when my spectacles fell from my nose when I was reading, that he finally approached me about it."

Elingston chuckled but could not voice a response before the dance dictated they part for some steps. When they met again amidst the dance, he was eager continue the conversation but could not very well admit he had also noticed her slipping spectacles. Instead, he said, "What book were you reading with such intense scrutiny that you could not push your lenses up your nose?"

Mary could feel her blush spreading to her neck and ears. "A novel your sister sent me. It is all romantic whimsies. A great deal ridiculous, but a welcome break from my scripture book, and I certainly could not set it aside when Helena went to all the trouble of securing a copy for me."

Apart.

Together.

"Well you must allow me to suggest your next book then. Have you read _Arabian Nights_ by a man named Galland?"

Two steps right.

"I've heard of it, but I've not yet read it. Is it quite good?"

Three steps forward and a hop in place.

"I like it very well, though others have not. I warn you, though, it is twelve volumes long, and once you commit to reading one you must commit to reading them all."

A switch of partners.

A lump the size of a croquet ball settled in the pit of Mary's stomach; the duke danced with a pretty lady.

Mary's new partner complimented her dress.

She thanked him.

The duke stumbled over a missed step.

Original partners were returned.

"I have no qualms in commuting to read the story in full, but to buying twelve volumes for a few stories seems a dishonest way of making money," Mary said as soon as her gloved hand touched his.

They danced in circles now.

"I had not thought of it in such a way," he said, contorting his face in mock thought, "but I fear you are right, Miss Bennet, and I the fool for having already bought the twelve volumes. You may borrow them on the promise that you will discuss them with me. Helena refuses. 'Not enough romance' she says."

Three steps apart.

A turn.

Three steps together.

But one of them messes up.

One of them takes an extra step.

Their shoulders bump and their faces are close.

Switch partners.

"May I ask your name?" the man who complimented her dress asked.

"Miss Mary Bennet, sir."

"Miss Benent," he smiled at her; it was a reserved smile much like her own and nothing near as vibrant as Mr. Ellingston's. "Are you engaged for the dinner set?"

That caught Mary off guard. She wanted to sit with her family or with the Ellingston's for dinner, but she could not lie. To lie was a sin, after all,

Switch partners.

The duke held out his gloved hand, and she took it without hesitation.

He didn't tell her he had heard the question; he was too angry. What kind of man would ask for a lady when currently occupied with another? Maxton could not, in good conscience, allow Mary- Miss Bennet to dance with him!

"I think having someone to discuss the tomes would be a great relief. There must be much to discuss to take up twelve publications."

"What?" he couldn't recall what they had been talking about.

Mary blushed. Had he meant to drop the conversation? " _Arabian Nights_."

His eyes lit up with recognition. "Yes. Yes! Yes, I'm sorry, without you to talk to for the last few steps, I got distracted." It wasn't a lie, he decided, just a half-truth. "I meant to ask," he looked at her and subconsciously licked his lips. "That is, if you are not otherwise engaged, would you dance the dinner set with me?"

He didn't say that he was asking so his sister may have a companion.

Mary's response was again without her normal hesitation. "I am not otherwise engaged, sir."

It was not a declaration of love, Maxton told himself, and nothing unusual. Still, he could not figure out why it felt such a significant moment. He simply nodded and smiled.

Switch partners.

"I am afraid sir…" Mary looked at the man who now lightly held her hand as the dance dictated.

"Thomas Listly, Miss Bennet."

"Mr. Listly, sir, I am afraid I am already engaged for the dinner set."

"Indeed?" his brown brow rose slightly in disappointment.

"Indeed, sir." Mary said. It was not a lie, she decided, but a half-truth. She was engaged for the set when she said what she did, she just had not been when he asked.

Switch partners.

Three steps apart.

A turn.

Three steps together.

One of them messes up; takes an extra step.

They're shoulders touch and their faces are close.


	17. Chapter 16

A messenger from Pemberlely arrived at Thrushton a half an hour before dinner was to be served. The missive was a short one from Mrs. Reynolds. Elizabeth was in labor. Darcys and Bennet made their excuses with little tact, Georgiana giving the most proper of the adieus.

"Fitzwilliam is nervous because it is his first child, Your Grace," she said as she rose from her curtsey, "And Mary worries a great deal about everything. It is no surprise that her first nephew or niece should excite her so much."

Helena took Georgiana's arm as they walked to the exit, with Maxton following a respectable distance behind. "Are you not so worried about Mrs. Darcy?"

Georgiana's voice was soft in response, "I do not think it is possible for a baby to come into this world without everyone involved holding their breath. I do, however, know that Elizabeth is so very strong. I worry, yes, but I promised Lizzy that I would hold my head, and so I shall."

Helena smiled. "I only hope I can keep such a level head as you should my brother ever deign to marry and make a family," Helena said with a pointed look at her brother. "Please send some missive when baby is arrived and all is done with so we may send our proper congratulations!"

Miss Darcy consented and allowed a footman to help her into the carriage where her brother and Mary sat in an air of mutual discontent.

After the carriage had moved on course to Pemberley, the Elingstons returned to the party with some reluctance. When couples lined up to dance in the center of the room for the dinner set, Maxton sat with Helena. They watched as their guests weaved through and around each other to the beat of the music, and Maxton could not help but sigh.

"What timing that Darcy baby has."

Helena had to use her fan to hide her unladylike bark of laughter. When she had managed to recompose her face into a more respectable one, she asked, "Because he has chosen to be born on the one night his mother is left at home or because he has chosen to be born before dinner?"

"Both, I suppose," Maxton replied with little hesitation before returning to his duties as host.

* * *

The labour was not an easy one; but then again, is there ever an easy labour? Mary and Georgiana offered their assistance to the midwife, but Mary's nervous tendencies quickly had her expelled from the room. Georgiana remained, nervous but determined to help her nephew or niece into the world.

Mary sat with Mr. Darcy in the tea room downstairs, well away from the birthing room.

Well, Mary sat.

Darcy paced.

Darcy paced so much, Mary was sure he would warp the floorboards before the baby was born. They would have to find another room pace in should Elizabeth bare anymore children, for the tea room floor would be too distorted for any use at all.

"Whenever a woman is in labor she has pain, because her hour has come; but when she gives birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy that a child has been born into the world," Mary said, attempting to comfort Darcy and herself, "John 16:21."

Darcy paused mid turn of pace and allowed the words to sink "But why does she have to go through the pain at all?"

Mary sighed. She was devout, but she did not think that made her fit to interpret the book like a man of the cloth who had spent years studying the word of God. Still, she wanted to offer her brother was solace she could. "Eve persuaded Adam into the original sin, so she must endure the pain to become a mother."

"Eve did not force her husband's hand; should he not, too, share the pain?"

Mary readjusted her spectacles and settled her teacup on the dish in her lap. Childbirth was not something Mary often considered, and so she had never thought that far. After a minute or so of thinking, she spoke up, stopping Darcy who had begun pacing again when she had given no answer. "Man was punished for all his days, to work and provide."

Darcy found fault with this, too. "But women's pain is much more intense. It hardly seems fair."

"Fair or not, we do not get to choose," Mary said. "But at least a woman's pain is only in labour." That was not wholly true, but she would never be so impertinent to mention the more regular pains women faced to a man.

Mr. Darcy seemed to take at least a little bit of comfort from Mary's words. He sat across from Mary then and balanced the tea Mary poured from him precariously on one knee while the other bounced in place, his nerves still not completely alleviated. The two sat like that for hours, the chatter of china against china the only sounds.

Until an infant's cries shattered the crisp silence they'd decided on. In an instant, Mr. Darcy was on his feet and barreling towards the staircase. Mary gathered her skirts in her fist and ran to follow him.

* * *

Bennet Edward Darcy was a perfectly fat and rosy-cheeked babe.

His first weeks alive were horribly busy for an infant. The household staff would coo at every sighting of the boy. Elizabeth and Darcy were glowing in the pride that bathed all first parents for an indefinite amount of time after the birth.

Georgiana and Mary, too, felt pride at the little one's birth. When Darcy or Elizabeth needed a break (for they had decided not to yet employ a nurse) Georgiana would play some soft nursery rhymes for him or Mary would read some fairy tales and the occasional bible story: "Children are a blessing from the Lord, and we should do well to make sure little Bennet knows it," she would say softly, her usual stiff beliefs wavering for the rounded and innocent face of her nephew.

She would miss him when she returned to Hertfordshire with her family after the christening, and she was absolutely dreading the long carriage ride with Kitty. As it was, Mary had learned that, unlike what Kitty and Lydia had lead her to believe, she was not without redeeming qualities. Helena had immediately become her good friend, and Georgiana was much more like a sister than she had felt with any of her own sisters.

And Elizabeth. True, Mary and Elizabeth had never been close. They still were not connected like Elizabeth and Jane were. Still, Lizzy was the first of her immediate family to try and know her, and for that Mary was grateful.

But, while the Darcys had all expressly stated that she was always welcome, Mary felt she was no longer needed. Her purpose in traveling to Pemberley had been to be a comfort to her sister in confinement and an aide in adjusting to her new life as a mother. No matter what the Darcys said, Mary could not help but feel she was slowly becoming a burden.

The Bennets would come a week before the christening and leave the day after to return to Hertfordshire. It was just as she had known it would be and how it was meant to be.

Not how Mary wanted it to be, though. No matter how she tried to fool herself, the selfish longing to stay with people who cared. She did not want to say good bye to the Darcys or to see Helena's tears or, worst of all, to pretend an unaffected air as she bids goodbye to Mr. Elingston, for she was beginning to understand what he meant to her, and it was for that same reason she knew she could not stay a minute past her family's departure.

* * *

 **Sorry if this fic is getting a bit cliché, but I just love cheesy stories.**

 **I'm taking 3 English classes this semester lol sorry for taking so long on my P &P fics. Sometimes I gotta just take a break or write for a different fandom. Thinking of a Mansfield Park fic and a criminal minds fic.**


	18. Chapter 17

"A handsomer baby I've never seen, Mr. Darcy!" Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice exclaimed at a volume far above the level necessary to convey her compliment not only to Mr. Darcy, but to the entirety of the room. Darcy gave a stiff nod of his head in agreement.

Elizabeth was standing with Mary, Kitty, and Georgiana by a window nearly across the room. When she could see the twitch of annoyance beginning to pull the muscles of around his left eye, she passed little Bennet to Mary with practiced easiness; Kitty grumbled about how unfair it was that Mary should hold her nephew again, when she had yet to. Georgiana pretended not to hear her and shifted closer to Mary, continuing her cooing of the chubby cherub.

Elizabeth simply ignored her. "I must go and rescue my husband from Mama. If she continues to berate him so, he may bar her presence from Pemberley entirely, and how awful that would be if we had more children to christen in the future." Before she'd even finished speaking, she had grabbed up her dress and begun scurrying across the room, stopping momentarily to drop a kiss on her father's cheek as he read.

Mary rocked her nephew and thought about how, soon she would no longer have the privilege of holding him every day. Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them away.

Had the baby been born a year ago, and she none the richer in friendship and loved ones, she might have borne it better. But he hadn't been. And she would leave the day after next in a carriage pointed towards Longborne.

She dragged her thumb across the soft skin of her baby nephew. His mouth open and lips turned in a gummy smile.

Mr. Bennet huffed at something he'd read over the edge of his glasses.

Mrs. Bennet scolded Elizabeth and praised Mr. Darcy.

Georgiana hummed a lullaby.

Kitty decorated a hat.

Mary felt.

* * *

The christening day of Bennet Edward Darcy was a fairly small affair. Godparents were chosen from amongst the Darcy's small collection of friends. The Elingstons came to witness the baptism, and Helena stood in the pew directly behind Georgiana and Mary, whispering in their ears on occasion.

Lord Elingston had found himself in companionable, if not slightly cynical, conversation with Mr. Bennet. They talked about news from America, the care of tenants, and the like; although they were of distinctly different classes, they found they ran their respective estates with similar care.

Bennet Edward cried when the blessed water dripped from his forehead and into his eyes, and Mrs. Bennet hopped from her seat to fuss over him, waving her handkerchief towards him as if he were marching away to war. She would have taken him from Elizabeth and into her arms to shush him herself had she not been in front of a vicar.

The party moved back to Pemberley for light refreshments.

It was over tea and sweets that Helena and Mary said their goodbyes. It would still be a day until the Bennet party was to depart, but the Elingstons would not stay the whole of the day. So, it was with a heavy heart and concealed heartache that Mary said what Helena was desperately trying to avoid:

"I'm going to miss having you just a few miles away."

The smile that had seemed such a permanent fixture of her face fell. She looked older. Mary wondered if her oft dismal expression aged her quite so much.

"I don't understand why you can't stay with your sister just a little while longer," Helena said. She truly couldn't understand why Mary did not simply ask to stay at Pemberley.

Mary knew she could not be so selfish as to ask to prolong her stay. She let her gaze trip across the room and linger on Lord Elingston. "You won't be able to stay here forever either, Helena," Mary said when she returned her attention to her friend.

Helena wanted to say that, should Mary and Maxton stop tiptoeing about what was obvious to her, she could come live with them (after the proper ceremony- they were a godly family, after all). She swallowed her forwardness, for once, and wallowed in the face of her friend's imminent departure. She would have to go back to associating with the ton.

Not that they would have her after her outburst: she simply could not keep silently on the hideous hue of yellow Miss Mently wore to Almack's of all places! She didn't mean to be mean, but she had been raised to be honest. Mary knew that.

But Mary was leaving.

Helena let her gaze linger on her brother more discretely than Mary had: he was an awkward man. Even in a friend's home, he oscillated between outgoing and quiet observation. Today he seemed particularly jubilant; he always was when he was facing absolutely dismal situations. The family often joked that, had his older brother not been stillborn, he would have made an excellent man of the cloth.

Maxton often wished he could live so simply as a parson did. He sat between the other two men with the littlest man bouncing on his lap. He was absolutely horrified that one mis-bounce and the baby would go bounding across the room. He was so soft and new and innocent. This day would forever be the day that his inborn sin was washed away, and the day that he was forced to acknowledge and set aside his romantic hopes. Mary and Helena were whispering their reluctant goodbyes.

When the Elingstons left Pemberley shortly after noon struck, Helena said her goodbyes to the Darcys. She pulled Georgiana in for a second hug before she moved again to stand before Mary. They had said goodbyes a few times over their tea, but this was clearly to be the final goodbye for a long time. Helena was in tears but Mary retreated into the shell she'd only just broken out of. Her face was blank: no false positivity nor genuine upset showed.

Lord Elingston bowed to her in a proper fashion. She curtsied. The Elingstons got in their carriage and left.

The Bennets left for Hertfordshire the next day.

 **Snow day!**

 **Y'all are gonna hate me, but I have a Kitty x OC story formulating in my mind. When I write my Kitty story, I will work harder to use proper titles (unlike this story).**

 **Also I need to write at least 1 AlvezXGarcia fic and 1 FannyXHenry fic**


	19. A message from Rose

**I am so sorry my lovelies, but I think I am going to take a bit of a hiatus from this story. My poor planning has lead me to writing myself into a corner that leaves only cliched options as an out. I am hoping that working on other stories will continue to grease my creative wheels and hopefully allow me to reach a point where I can continue this story without forcing you to reread a story you've read a thousand times before.**

 **All my love**

 **x Rose**


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